Where Storms Cannot Reach

Written while gazing from a plane window, this poem reflects on a woman’s ability to rise above fear, doubt, and chaos through faith in the One who commands the storm.
It is a reminder that when we are carried, we are lifted higher than the winds, to a place where storms cannot reach.

Dark clouds
with fists of thunder,
try to pull women under—

but we ride
with the One
who walks on wind,
who commands the sky,
who speaks—
and storms fall silent.

We sit in the chariot,
a bird of fire,
feathers lit with flame,
and rise—
above every voice
that tries
to crush
our precious name.

What can reach us now?

His peace
wraps like vapor
around our ribs—
a mist
we breathe
until fear
loosens its grip.

Below,
the thunder weeps—
searching
for who it missed.

But we rise—
rise above it all.

Storms cannot touch
women
held high above.