Brownian Motion

hailing winds of words reverberate through
the house, condemning every move, every
breath ― storms of expectation relentlessly
screaming, trembling walls with tempest each hour ―

be a man, say they; silence the voice that
gnaws away at the back of your mind, hide
inside the tortoise-shell society
demands; dam the rivers, let rage devour ―

but even concrete crumbles and fractures;
the facade of contentedness breaks
under the rising tide of emotion,
the slings and arrows of manmade fortune ―

so you walked alone to speak with nature’s song;
through wind’s wan whistle in forest branches
the river’s ripples beckon, shimmering
in bright silver light as the water’s edge

wraps around your ankles ―
and as the sky darkens
to black you feel
for the first
time truly
free.