{an act of changing physical location or position or of having this changed}
I learned about my identity
When I stopped wearing my retainer
And my teeth started to shift
Back to where they were most comfortable
And I realized
That’s not such a bad thing.
Like every other piece of me,
They were so out of place in where
They were expected to be
That my body insisted on
Movement.
So I found me there,
A little bit of myself
In everything that refused
To stand still.
This is why I’m only ever found
In crashing tidal waves
And windy days
Where the trees dance
And birds fly.
The chaos never scared me
Like the stillness does,
Because my dad once told me
“That if in the middle of a storm
If everything falls quiet
And motionless”
To run.
It doesn’t really make sense to me,
Anymore,
Because I am the tornado he warned of,
Because I am the everchanging earthquake,
Because I am the indisputable force
That knocks the wind out of everyone
I touch.
So still, I refuse to fall in line
With the peaceful people
And the absence of noise
Because silence has never
Really been my thing
And stillness scares
The storm out of me
"See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind." Isaiah 65:17