Post by Ugbene Martin (@ugbene_martin)

When the mind becomes a storm

The voices rise like smoke and teeth,
screaming names I never chose to keep.
My hands clutch at my skull, trying to hold
the pieces from spilling into the deep.

Above the clouds, a quiet watches.
No anger. No turning away.
Just hands open, steady, waiting
for the moment I remember how to pray.

Not to the sky, maybe.
But to the part of me that hasn’t drowned yet.
The part that knows storms pass,
and I am more than what I forget.

Breathe.
Reach.
Stay.
The noise is loud, but it isn’t you.

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