When The Wind Runs Out

I want to hear it.
A hum, a lyric.
Something small enough that I don’t have to chase.
As I stand here, petals blow toward me,
Caught in the wind I cannot hold.

I want to follow without thinking.
I want to sing along long enough
That the noise in my head loses its grip
And finally loosens its hold on me.

My mind is never empty.
It is filled with unfinished thoughts,
With moments I constantly replay
Until they grow sharp.
Even silence feels crowded,
And I am tired of carrying it all.

When I walk, everything comes with me.
My feet sink into old mistakes,
Into things I thought I had forgiven.
I slip into a landslide of thoughts,
And I cannot stop,
Until breathing itself feels like work.

I have heard stories of travelers,
People who move easily between places and time.
Their faces stay open, their steps light,
As if the road does not resist them.
No dust dares rise when they pass,
And no past clings, demanding to be remembered.

I am jealous of the quiet I imagine inside them.
Not the silence, but the peace.
A place where the world touches lightly
And then let’s go.

With me, everything lingers.
Everything presses in and settles like dust.
The day, the past, the constant noise,
They all press on places that never forget.
I listen for a sound to interrupt this,
Something sharp enough to
Cut through “what if” and “not enough.”

I await the snap of a bloom.
I imagine the petals falling thickly,
Pressing velvet against the places
Where my thoughts keep hurting me,
Soft enough to cover the rough edges,
Until the wind finally runs out.