Turbulence

It comes sudden,
a tide in the air,
lifting the brittle leaves,
rattling the windows,
folding the sky over itself
like a sheet in unseen hands.

You know this feeling—
the shift, the coming undone.
How many times
have you stood at the edge
of what was certain,
only to watch it split open,
carried off in the reckless current?

But oh, you have learned—
to bend, not break,
to gather what’s left
with hands still open,
to listen when the wind speaks
of loss, of change,
of the endless work of becoming.

Even now, the earth
remakes itself.
Rivers carve new paths,
roots thread through stone,
and a tree, struck by lightning,
sends out a green shoot
toward the sun.

Let the storm come.
Let it howl its name.
When it passes,
you will step out,
the air fresh with its leaving,
the world made new again,
and so will you.