The Weight of What Was
Once I spoke with fire, words sharpened in scripture, carved edges that cut more than they ever healed. I thought I was saving souls, but I was wounding hearts. I see it now, the silence after my words, the tears that fell in secret, the bridges I burned in the name of light. I have gone back, hands open, voice trembling, to say l am sorry. And though many turned away, their pain too deep to accept what little balm I could offer, I honor their no. It is sacred. It is theirs. Still, within me, something has broken open, a flood of compassion, a river of empathy, a love not bound by walls nor fenced by fear. My heart, once clenched, is now an open field. Yet I carry the echoes, the harm I caused, the ache I left behind. Not as a chain, but as a compass, pointing me always toward tenderness, toward care, toward the humanity I once failed to see. And so I walk forward, not perfect, not free of regret, but honest, with love spilling from my hands, my mouth, my soul, for every stranger, for ...
