All Voices In The Weather Poem by linus gerald

The storm does not choose
whose roof to lift,
whose well to dry,
whose child will walk farther for water—
yet it is not felt the same
in every pair of hands.

When the rivers thin to threads of dust,
it is often women
who carry the empty buckets home.
When harvests fail,
it is often girls
whose schooling is traded for survival.
When heat grips the city streets,
it is the unseen,
the unheard,
who stand longest in the sun.

Climate change is not only
melting ice and rising seas—
it is the weight of distance,
the cost of silence,
the shape of power.

But listen—
there are hands that have always known
how to tend fragile things.

Hands that save seeds
in folded cloth.
Hands that measure rain
by memory.
Hands that organize,
heal, rebuild—
not for applause,
but because tomorrow must live.

When women speak,
forests are mapped with wisdom,
water is guarded like a firstborn,
communities bend
but do not break.

When girls learn,
the future shifts—
like sunlight through cloud.
Innovation grows
where equality is planted.
Resilience blooms
where dignity is named.

To leave them out
is to fight a fire
with half a river.

To welcome every voice—
women, men, nonbinary hearts,
those too long pushed
to the edges of the meeting—
is to weave a net strong enough
to hold the wind.

The Earth herself
is an intricate balance—
tide and shore,
seed and soil,
strength and tenderness
braided together.

So let our solutions
mirror her design.
Let policy carry compassion.
Let science sit beside lived truth.
Let leadership look like the world it serves.

Because the climate crisis
is not only about carbon—
it is about care.
And care has always grown
where inclusion is allowed to breathe.

When all voices rise—
not over one another,
but with one another—
the weather begins to change.

And hope,
like rain after a long dry season,
falls
on everyone.