Dancing to the Voice of the Wind

Dancing to the Voice of the Wind

When sorrow wrapped its arms around me tight,

the wind began to whisper thoughts in flight.

It kissed each line with honeyed grace,

and flung my verses into star-bound space.

Shhh… hush, sweet baby, don’t you cry—

you were made to glow like stars in the sky.

Shhh… be still, the ache you bear is deep,

but through the storm, a light dares leap.

Shhh… rise, my hush-a-baby, rise,

become the wind that breaks the skies.

Like armies charging toward their flame,

you rise, though broken, all the same.

I see my shadow, trembling, fluttering low,

a butterfly lost in the winter’s snow.

But even cold can’t still my flame—

I dance into the dark, unnamed.

In dreams, I twirl through open air,

the wind becomes a silver stair.

I climb with laughter, bold and shy,

to touch the star that lives on high.

My arms reach out—no one else can see

the star that whispers just to me.

The wind caresses my tear-stained face,

and cries aloud through time and space:

“Be brave, my baby… be brave and true.”

Though sorrow stains my soul like dew,

I dance to rhythms no one hears—

songs that pulse through silent tears.

My soul—it sings, it screams, it burns,

its voice in desperate echoes turns.

It carves a future, sharp and wide,

where hope and love refuse to hide.

Even if all feels lost to night…

a flicker still becomes the light.

I’ll carve a path where others hear

the stars, as they begin to cheer—

they dance upon the winds above,

writing a symphony of love.

© Kirenia Carratala  poema y imágenes me pertenecen yo las pinté