She Left A Mark On The Dark—by Jennifer Sperling

Her scream met the storm before it could meet the world.
Kneeling on jagged rocks,
wings torn and soaked,
she lifts her face to the storm.
Rain lashes down,
stinging her skin, soaking her hair,
mirroring the weight
of every hopeless day,
every silent scream she carried alone.
Lightning cracks above,
an echo of the fury inside her,
anger and grief tangled tight,
spilling into the chaos
that has swallowed her whole.
The wind tears at her ragged wings,
tosses debris around her knees,
every drop, every roar,
every jagged edge beneath her
a reminder of how far she’s fallen—
how broken, how tired,
how desperately alive with sorrow.
And still she screams.
A sound that shakes the storm,
letting it carry what she cannot bear.
Even in ruin, even in pain,
she exists—raw, furious, trembling,
a force of grief and rage
against the dark.
Her scream left a mark on the dark.