There are days when the body does not feel like a boundary,
but a landscape.
Something moves through it —
quietly at first.
A shift in the air.
A pressure beneath the skin.
A current.
A storm.
A memory of rain.
These are three poems about the body
not as something still,
but as something that changes, carries, breaks, and remembers.
In Your Sleep
Was I just a secret
that you whispered
in your sleep?
An undercurrent,
barely there,
still strong enough
to pull you
out to sea—
past the sand dunes,
through wind in the reeds.
A raindrop on your eyelid:
blink and it was gone.
You thought.
But it travelled down your neck,
settling in the hollow
of your collarbone.
I Am the Storm
I am the storm
you had forgotten,
the roar of wind
across desert stone.
A memory,
simmering beneath the surface,
rising through currents,
breaking through streams.
I move unseen
through treacherous waters,
sleek and swift —
born of crashing tides.
I whisper the names
your lips withheld,
a sound that never left your chest.
I am the shadow
your silence could not erase.
There are moments when a feeling does not pass —
it settles.
In the air,
in the breath,
in the body that carries it long after it should have gone.
Midsummer Storm
I am not the storm
that rages around you
or the chaos that disrupts your sleep,
but the soft kiss on your skin—
lingering like a dream
you can’t quite recall.
I am not the thunder
that shakes the sky,
yet in the air you breathe,
I drift like a memory,
floating through your thoughts
and catching in your chest.
I am the quiet wind
that stirs the sea,
drawing you deeper
into waters unknown,
where the pulse of the tide
beats softly beneath your skin.
If you found something here that stayed with you,
you’re always welcome to follow along.
I share new poems, reflections, and pieces of my writing life here —
slowly, and as honestly as I can.
Related post: Winter Poems: Hidden Depths and Emotions
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