Synapses of Strength

 

There were nights I sank beneath my thoughts,

a storm of shadows, battles I fought.

The weight was heavy, silence loud,

yet still I rose from under the cloud.

Each breath became a fragile thread,

pulling me forward where hope once fled.

The mirror showed a face worn thin,

but strength was growing deep within.

I learned the cracks don’t mean I’m weak,

they’re maps of truth, the words I seek.

And though the climb is steep and long,

my heart beats steady, steady and strong.

Now when the dark comes back to stay,

I whisper kindly, I’ll find my way.

For healing isn’t fast or neat,

but every stumble shapes my feet.

Poet: Vynolyn Naidoo