In shadows where silence forgets to breathe,
we find the smallest flicker —
a light too stubborn to die.
The world breaks, yes,
but so do waves —
only to return,
stronger,
to the shore.
We have worn the weight of winter,
frozen and aching,
yet every spring,
our hands remember how to bloom.
Hope is not loud.
It is the hush of holding on
when everything says let go.
And resilience —
it’s the quiet choice
to stand
one more time
than we fall.
Posted in response to the challenge Hope & Resilience.
I don’t remember
what I was wearing,
only that everything felt
too heavy for a ten-year-old
to carry.
The world had been quiet
in all the wrong places —
no voices soft enough,
no arms open long enough
to stay.
If all is ash, and only one breath remains,
let it speak not of endings,
but of patterns —
how stars learned to burn,
how cells whispered to one another
until they sang.
i want to be you.
i want to unzip myself
and step into your skin.
wear your smile like armor.
speak with your voice
and not feel it shake.
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