When the Wind Comes

When the wind comes,
I do not break.
I bend—
like the bamboo in the hush of dusk,
my spine remembering
that strength lies in yielding,
not in the clutch of defiance.

I have loved with my whole self—
a woman,
married to a woman,
rooted in the quiet conviction
that our truth needs no explanation,
just room to breathe
and time to stretch into light.

We’ve known storms:
family silences,
laws late to catch up,
friends who flinched and faded.
Yet here we are—
coffee in the morning,
quiet smiles at the sink,
hands brushing like wind through leaves.

Some days I want to snap,
to roar like oak or iron.
But I remember the bamboo,
the way it dances with pressure
and rises again,
even more whole.

There’s grace in letting go.
In listening.
In swaying.
And in trusting that love—
real love—
will not uproot,
but deepen
with the whispering wind.

© Susie Stiles-Wolf