The storm did not come from the sky.
It gathered in my thoughts,
in the quiet spaces where fear learns how to speak.
There was no warning.
Just a sudden pressure,
like the air had thickened around my soul,
making every breath feel heavier than the last.
Accusations moved in like clouds.
What if you’ve misunderstood God?
What if you’ve gone too far this time?
What if you’re alone in this?
The wind was relentless,
spinning old failures into new threats,
raising questions I thought I had already settled.
Everything familiar felt unstable.
The thunder was loudest at night.
That’s when the lies sharpened,
when the noise grew bold enough
to challenge what I knew to be true.
I looked for shelter,
for certainty,
for something solid to hold onto
while the storm tried to convince me
I was exposed and unprotected.
And then I noticed something I had missed.
The storm had boundaries.
It could speak,
but it could not decide.
It could accuse,
but it could not condemn.
The noise was real,
but it was not sovereign.
Even here,
where fear felt convincing
and darkness pressed close,
Your presence did not retreat.
You were not waiting for the storm to pass.
You were not silent because You were absent.
You were steady,
holding the line the storm could not cross.
When the noise finally lost its power
and the pressure began to lift,
I understood what the storm had never told me.
You were with me all along.
© 2026 Diane Ferreira All rights reserved.
This poem really speaks to me. Thank you for this.
Beautifuly writen great work