“Even calm carries the memory of the storm.”

The storm had passed, or so it seemed. Branches lay scattered across the shoreline, reminders of winds that tore through with little warning. The air was strangely still, too still, as if the cove itself held its breath. In the eye’s quiet aftermath, nothing moved, yet everything remembered.

Neighbors drifted back to their routines, but the silence between them said more than their words. The pause after chaos was never empty; it was full of everything no one dared to name.

After the eye, the silence stays,

broken branches, forgotten days.

Calm deceives, but truth remains,

etched in whispers, etched in veins.

The storm retreats, yet leaves behind,

the weight of echoes, sharp in mind.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

And in that stillness, when everyone believed the worst had passed, a single sound rose again, too faint to name, but impossible to ignore.