I was born in a storm,
when the earth opened up like a fist unclenching
and swallowed the dark.
My first wails were not in mourning,
not for life lost in a cloud of ash, billowed and blown,
on the day I was born.
You wrapped me, covered me,
sheltered me from the branches that broke,
from the thunder that you heard in your core
on the day that I was born.
And then the skies clear -- yes, autumn leaves settle down.
Warmth turns up the corners of your mouth.
You watch me dance in the puddles that formed
on the day that I was born in the storm.
When night falls,
when the wind howls again and your screams resound:
I will hold you, lift you up.
I will be the calm in the eye of the storm.
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