When Peace Is Chosen [a poem]

Forgiveness does not arrive with thunder, nor does it seek to be seen.
It enters quietly, like mist upon a still lake at first light,
gathering in the hush where sorrow once settled,
softening the edges of what was once unyielding.
It does not contend with memory,
nor ask that pain be erased.
Instead, it moves beneath the surface of understanding,
loosening what has long been held,
and offering—without urgency—
a gentler way of remembering.