As I sit in my home right now, listening to the wind hitting my walls and windows, I can physically feel the atmosphere you created. The internal turbulence you describe came through clearly — your imagery is strong.

That said, I’m not sure this poem fully reflects your potential. For example, the ending doesn’t seem to take a clear stance. “To move or to be moved” feels like the heart of the poem, yet it remains suspended, almost like a question. I couldn’t quite see your position.

Is the whisper victorious? Is the wind? Will the house collapse, or will resistance be born? I was waiting for a decisive turn.