Storms comfort me.

The sound of the wind rushing,

tree branches bending under its’ power.

Heavy rain on a roof,

accompanied by striking flashes of light

and deep, rattling booms.

The display of Mother Nature’s power

is a sovereignty in its own right—

a welcome reminder

of how small I am

in the vastness of life.

And in that smallness,

I can breathe again.

I never liked hope

before;

it was just another thing

I had to learn to survive.

Now I find myself

yearning to embrace

hope’s comforting warmth,

and I am scared

to welcome it in.

But I think that finally

I am ready

to say goodbye

to the walls and the fences,

the isolation and the armor,

and crack the gate

open.

I made you my sun

when I was an Icarus.

Addicted to your warmth,

and disregarding

the destruction of fire,

I flew too close

and I stayed too long

until you melted my wings

and I entered a free fall.