The Quiet Things That Saved Me
I was saved by quiet things—
The rustle of the morning breeze,
The way the robin spreads its wings,
The golden drift of autumn leaves.
I was saved by threads of light
That touched my skin through broken blinds,
By distant stars that pierced the night,
By echoes I had left behind.
I was saved by falling rain—
The softest tears the sky could spill.
Each drop a whisper in my brain
That life could move, and I was still.
I was saved by silent seas,
By moonlight painted on the floor,
By all the things that asked no pleas
But held me when I asked no more.
I was saved by open hands—
The strangers’ smiles, the quiet nods,
The random footprints in the sand,
The laughter shared in fleeting odds.
I was saved by little songs
That only sorrow’s heart could hear,
By knowing pain does not belong,
Yet teaches us to persevere.
I was saved by seeds that grew
Inside the ruins of my chest,
By learning endings are not true—
That every grave gives birth to rest.
I was saved by love unseen,
By gentler winds, by whispered grace.
And though the hurt has always been,
The quiet things still find their place.
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