“Some storms arrive without thunder , only the rustle of silk and the weight of unspoken things .”

Beneath the vows and music’s sway,

something slithered,

soft as lace against the grass.

Whispers curled like smoke

from mouths that had never tasted the truth,

passing from palm to palm

until the story grew legs

and ran in circles beneath the tent.

Eyes met with a knowing

that knew nothing at all.

Confidence stitched from secondhand threads,

woven by those

who never thought to ask

where the fabric came from.

Nature has always known this dance ,

coyotes cry into the dark,

summoning the pack without question,

rivers deliver branches

to strangers downstream,

the ocean shifts her voice

without leaving her shore.

And we, standing on the edge,

felt the tide beneath the satin.

I let it move.

I did not throw my stone to quicken the waves.

For I have learned

that reaction sinks faster than truth

and truth always swims.

It comes ashore in its own time,

dripping with the weight of what was hidden,

ready to dry in the sunlight.

~Kerri-Elizabeth~

This piece is part of a new unfolding — a series where poetry becomes the lantern for a path lined with shadow and light. Over the coming months, fragments will surface, like shells along a tide, carrying both the ache and the healing of a story still writing itself. Some truths will arrive quietly, some will roar, and each will ask the reader to walk slowly, to see what is revealed when the water recedes.