Poem – When the past knocks softly

Try Deeper Mindfulness Community HERE
FREE Live and Recorded Mindfulness Courses HERE

When the past knocks softly

There’s a path that begins
where the grasses lean westward,
brushed by the sighs of women who once ran,
barefoot,
from the things they could not name.

There, the wind doesn’t ask for your story.
It already knows.
It has carried the ache of ancient daughters,
the long breath of grandmothers
who learned to swallow thunder.

Still—
there are violets growing
out of the ashes of all your endings.
There is moss thick enough
to cradle the hardest question.

The past will come again,
not as a villain but a deer
stepping shyly from the trees—
its eyes wide with memory,
its ribs sharp with hunger.

You do not have to run.
You do not have to silence your heartbeat.
You do not have to give it your hands.

Just sit,
sun on your back,
and watch it watching you.

The shadows will move—
as shadows do—
but they will not devour you.
They do not own the light.

Breathe here.
Let the wind fill you with something
older than fear—
something like spring returning
through frost.

You are not broken.
You are becoming.

More Poems
Join our mailing list
Free LIVE and RECORDED Courses