Poem – What the light did
What the light did
It was nothing—
just a single shaft of late sun
falling across the mossy fence
as I passed through
the worn wooden gate
I’d walked by a hundred times
and never really seen.
But this time,
the light landed
like a whisper I’d been waiting for,
soft and golden and utterly indifferent
to if I was ready.
A bird startled upward—
that sharp flutter of wings
a punctuation mark
on the sentence I hadn’t known I was living.
And there,
for a moment longer than a moment,
the whole sky leaned in.
My chest opened
the way a window does
in spring
when you finally trust
that the cold might be finished.
And what filled it wasn’t clarity,
or purpose,
or some tidy knowing—
just a stillness,
vast and kind,
where I remembered
what it is
to be part of the world
and not apart from it.
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