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Temps d'Orage Maman
C’est un temps d’orage maman
Le tonnerre qui rugit
La pluie qui heurte et rafraichit d’un coup,
D’une traite, dès la première goutte…
C’est un éclair qui déchire le ciel et illumine la nuit
C’est ce bruit de craquement terrifiant qui te glace et t’empêche de bouger
Alors même que tous tes sens te hurlent de courir te cacher, te protéger,
De tout faire pour que ce temps d’orage, Maman, ne te déchiquète.
J’adore, j'adule et je m’imprègne de la controverse du
Temps d’orage, Maman.
Certains, le fuient, ont peur de ses coups impulsifs et de ses gouttes enragées,
D’autres le méprisent de tant effrayer, de tant rugir, de tant briser.
Mais les autres, Maman, les autres s'extasient à son arrivée,
Ils dansent avec lui, ils virevoltent, ils rient sous ce
Temps d’orage, Maman
Et moi Maman, moi je ne sais que faire.
Il me fait peur et il me ravit ce
Temps d’orage, Maman.
Alors je reste, statique, comme bloquée,
À attendre de voir s’il me fera virevolter ou si encore une fois
Je finirai
brisée.

Illustration: Claire Chum