I can hear her.
On the nights
The wind screams through the trees
And the waves crash
In rhythmic chaos
On the shore.
When night is darkest
And bejeweled skies
Tell no secrets.

I can hear her wild melodies
That dance over the trees
And glide over the waves.
While the world stoically sleeps
She sings a mournful, hopeful tune.

She sings of wild freedoms fought.
And won.
She sings of her hair down,
Eyes with wonder.
She sings of her heart untamed
In spite of what the world would make her.

In her chaos, resilience.
In her storms, music.
In her darkest night, freedom.

I can hear her
As I drift to sleep.
Wild melodies
Beckoning my heart to mend
On the waves that crash
And the wind that screams through the trees,
“Wild one, be free.”

Grace Brindle is a leader birthed in the silent fires of the purity movement and the height of evangelical conferences and mission trips. She resides in the Northwoods on the land of the Anishinaabe, on the shores of Lake Superior. Under the mantra “We can only go with others as far as we are willing to go ourselves,” Grace finds her soul and remembers the stories her body holds through the poetry she writes. Grace attempts to resiliently hold creation in its poetic beauty at www.gracebrindle.com.