The storm has passed, though skies still gray,
And silence hums where pain once lay.
A breath returns, both sharp and slow,
As roots reach deep where soft winds blow.
The wound is not a thing to hide,
But something time walks gently beside.
A scar, perhaps, yet not defeat—
Just proof the heart refused to retreat.
The dawn does not demand a smile,
It waits with you a little while.
And step by step, through dark and ache,
You find the strength each break can make.
Not all is lost in loss or flame—
From ashes, wildflowers know your name.
So tend your soul with patient grace,
And meet yourself in this new place.
For healing isn’t loud or fast—
It’s choosing hope, and letting last
The quiet love that softly grows
Where once there lived the deepest throes.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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