I Need To Learn Who Is in Charge of My Life

Lightning struck the old oak,
a jagged scar across its façade,
an ember of fire at its base,
then silence. What hides
in the briar patch? Insanity?
Farrow hogs? Bobcats? A swamp
of gila monsters? I count down
from a hundred by nines--
91. 82, 73, 64, 45...take a hundred
into twos and fours, fifties and ones.
No one crosses over to assist me,
yet the rain falls in wind and shadow,
bone chips and slivers of hail.
Even my hands curled into small fists
feel incomplete as if they too
lack the substance of granite and pica.