You were walking,
shoulders bent beneath a weight
you forgot you carried.
Then- awareness:
a quiet whisper in the gale,
the moment you heard your own breath
over the thunder of blame.
You stopped.
You turned.
You saw the trail of fragments
you’d scattered like stones.
Acknowledgment:
no defense, no excuse-
just the soft whisper,
Yes, I did.
This is mine.
No flinching from the mirror,
no turning the light away.
Simply erasing the stories you’ve whispered to yourself at midnight,
the ones that taste of salt and rust-
for they are not scripture.
And then, the shift-
a breath deeper than sorrow,
a step not backward, but sideways,
into softer soil.
You changed your vibration
not by force, but by choice:
a song beneath the ribs,
a decision to tend the garden
instead of cursing the weeds.
Making things right:
not because you owed the world,
but because you owed yourself
the peace of clean hands.
A word unspoken, a silence broken,
memory drawn with kindness.
Not perfection-
just motion.
Just mending.
And now,
the weight is not gone,
but it has changed-
no longer a boulder on your back,
but a stone held gently in your palm,
a reminder:
You can return.
You can repair.
You can breathe.
This is the most powerful tool:
the courage to forgive yourself,
and begin again.