Weathered

Human life moves through seasons: the fury and tumult of storms, the freedom of skies gone clear and blue, accompanied by the scent of blossoming plants or the quiet decay of fallen leaves,

the wonder of late nights lit by stars, bonfires, and string lights strung between trees,

or spent untangling a spiral of words and thoughts you were never meant to carry, ones someone else placed in your mind long before you knew enough to question them.

Some of us face these storms without the shelter of privilege, power, or capital.

But none of it means as much without someone beside you to share the warmth.

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By Gemma Flora Ortwerth