The Quiet Storm

She is soft-spoken thunder.

A woman of wild feeling trapped in a world that measures only what it can hear.

Around her, emotions bloom like bruises–vivid, aching, invisible.

She walks gently through chaos, collecting the pain of others

as if her own heart were made to carry it all.

She longs to love–not in pieces,

not politely–

but with her whole being,

like firewood surrendering to flame.

They call her distant, but she is merely deep.

They call her shy, but she is sacredly full.

In the silence they misread as apathy,

she is screaming in color.

She hides not to disappear,

but to be discovered by someone willing to look

past the surface.

She is not waiting to be rescued–

only recognized.