I Ride the Waves, But I Am Not the Storm

I’ve learned to ride waves
without ever being them.

To stand steady
while everything beneath me shifts.
To balance
even when the water forgets
how to be still.

I have felt the pull—
the undertow of someone else’s anger,
the crash of their chaos,
the surge of their dysfunction
pressing against my calm.

But I do not become it.
I do not break.
I do not rise in fury
just because the tide demands it.

I ride.
I breathe.
I hold the line
between myself and the sea
they want me to drown in.

Their storm is not my identity.
Their flood is not my fault.
And I have nothing left to prove
to people who mistake
peace
for weakness.

I am not passive.
I am powerful.
Because I stay above.
Because I do not collapse
just to make them comfortable.

Let them crash.
Let them roar.
Let them come apart
against the rocks they keep throwing.

I’ll be here,
balanced on my board,
hair in the wind,
heart intact,
carving beauty through the mess.

I ride the waves.
But I am not the storm.
I never was.