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.

My heart weighed heavy,

a pressure like

the weight of the sky

against Atlas’s shoulders, 

pulling me down

behind my rib cage.

A crushing force—

I watched it

sink me beneath

the dirt and ashes

spreading around me.

I burned with such

intensity and heat

I thought that there would be

nothing left of me.

A spiritual calling

disguised as death,

I walked through

the fires of hell

until I clawed my way

out of the underworld.

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.