You were never asked to be unyielding—
never summoned to rise without faltering,
nor to walk unshaken across uncertain ground.
Only to breathe—
gently, if unevenly—
when breath felt more like a burden than a gift.
Only to place one foot before the other,
not with assurance,
but with the quiet resolve
of one who continues
simply because they must.
You have come this far—
not untouched by sorrow, nor spared by silence,
but through nights that emptied you of light
and mornings that arrived without promise.
You crossed thresholds no one witnessed,
gathering your breath as one gathers embers,
guarding the flame with hands that trembled
yet refused to let it die.
I did not know
the earth remembered me—
that it bore the imprint of my faltering
and offered stillness
in place of shame.
Yet when I fell,
it did not withdraw.
It remained—
quiet, steadfast,
untouched by my forgetting.
When strength slips softly from your grasp—
not with anguish, but with quiet,
and the morning’s light, once golden,
arrives as a burden too delicate to bear—
let mercy meet you where you are.
![Meet & Greet [closed]](https://i0.wp.com/healthinspiration.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/engaged-3.png?fit=672%2C480&ssl=1&resize=40%2C40){kind=small}
