Sunshine's Blog

I am not the storm I passed through,
not the name they called me in the dark.
Not the echo of a locked door,
or the silence that followed the slam.

I am the stillness that remained.
The breath that kept choosing to rise.
The hands that swept the ash
and painted from it sky.

No thread pulls at my feet now—
no ghost hand on my shoulder.
Even memory has loosened its grip,
and speaks to me more softly.

I do not reach for what isn’t mine.
I do not chase what must fly.
I tend the flame within my chest
and let it be enough light to walk by.

Let the past keep its stories.
Let the wind take what dissolves.
I belong to this unbinding.
I am the root that will not fall.