Poem – When the wind knows your name
When the wind knows your name
When you are full of storm,
go out where the fields have no edges.
Let the tall grasses do the talking.
They will not ask what’s wrong.
They have known worse weather.
Take your sadness to the hill—
it has held a thousand such burdens.
Stand there until your pulse
matches the wind’s long breath,
and you remember that movement
is the oldest form of forgiveness.
If you are frightened,
watch how the light enters the water,
how it never asks permission
to tremble or to shine.
If you are angry,
look at the hawk:
she spends her fury on the wing,
and when it’s done,
she circles back to silence.
There is a calm that will not come
from thought, or speech, or solving—
only from standing still long enough
to feel the small green insistence
of the world that keeps beginning.
And when you return,
your chest a little wider,
your eyes rinsed clean,
you’ll understand:
managing your emotions
was never the point.
The point was learning
to let the earth hold them with you.
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