Poem – Horizon after the storm

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Horizon after the storm

The sky has torn itself open,
the storm’s last mutter fading
into the far hills.

The air is rinsed clean—
trees stand taller,
the river loosens its silver tongue.

You stand there too,
not smaller than the world,
but widened with it,
your chest a shoreline
where breath meets the sea.

How long you carried the tightness—
the small rooms of worry,
the clenched heart.
And now—see—
the horizon has no edges.

In the vast blue,
your voice could rise
like a bird
and still not fill the silence.

Here is the secret:
to open is not to be broken,
to expand is not to be lost,
but to belong—
to everything,
to yourself,
to the trembling joy
of this wide and possible world.

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