The sea does not ask permission to rise,
It swells and crashes beneath troubled skies.
The wind does not warn before tearing the sail,
And the stars disappear in the teeth of the gale.
But somewhere below, where the current runs deep,
Where the fury above cannot reach, cannot reap,
There lies something steady, forged heavy and true,
An anchor of iron that the storm never knew.
You have felt the waves breaking across your bow,
You have gripped the wheel, unsure of how.
But the thing that has held you was never the wind —
It was the weight in your chest that refused to rescind.
So let the storm howl, let the ocean protest,
Let the sky crack and thunder and beat at your chest.
You were built with an anchor no tempest can break,
And the deeper it pulls, the more steady you wake.
Author’s Note
There are seasons in life when everything feels like it’s moving against you — circumstances, relationships, even your own thoughts. This poem is about the discovery that stability doesn’t come from calming the storm. It comes from something immovable already inside you, something that holds its ground precisely because the pressure is there.
