I grapple with the silence
of a sunlit day's contentment,
the soft and soothing
burden of a breeze.
As the pressure fills
my lungs,
a cloudless calm nearly
consumes.
Yet the storm inside
releases
and I shift
beside the weather,
standing steady
underneath the darkened sky,
tension falling fast
within me, mirroring
the atmosphere.
As my rising
tempest tolerance
stacks high,
for the windstorm
I have grown to know-
a common,
coming crisis.
Enduring blows
of heavy gusts
and rain,
and the chaos felt
in calmness
turns to stillness in
the storm.
In the torrents
meant to scatter,
I am rooted.
a peace and pressure
paradox-
to walk the thinning line
to wear the weather, feel
the weight
of air.
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