Poem: Whispers to the Wounded Soul

Beneath the shards of broken years,
The heart collects its silent tears—
A thousand battles, quiet cries,
Shadows dancing in weary eyes.

The soul, a garden torn and bare,
Where thorns of pain claw through the air.
Yet time, a tender, patient rain,
Turns scars to earth, softens pain.

Beneath each stone, the roots will grow,
A whispering life in gentle flow.
The sun will kiss the morning dew,
And paint the sky a brighter hue.

So breathe, beloved, slow and deep,
The secrets that you buried, keep—
The old wounds aren’t chains, but keys,
That unlock the soul’s true melodies.

Forgive the echoes, release the night,
Let stars replace the fading light.
Each breath a prayer, each step a song—
You are healing; you belong.

The mirror shows not what is torn,
But a spirit reborn, gently worn.
And through these cracks, the light will thread—
A brighter path where hope is wed.

The soul will bloom, resilient, whole,
A testament to a healing soul.
From broken pieces, beauty grows—
The journey teaches what time shows.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie