Poem: Choas

Don’t get lost in the chaos—
the shouting winds,
the crowded hours,
the endless tide of things
that demand your worry.

The world is loud on purpose.
It clangs like restless metal,
spins like a storm of clocks,
each second insisting
you run faster than your breath.

But there is a quiet place
hidden behind your ribs
where the noise cannot reach.

Stand there.

Let the rush of days
pass like trains in the distance.
You do not have to board them all.
You do not have to chase
every flashing light.

Hold the small things:
a steady breath,
a stubborn hope,
a moment of sky between buildings.

Chaos will always try
to write your story in a hurry.

But you—
you are allowed
to write it slowly.

Thank-you you for reading,

Brenda Marie