The Courage to Write Again

The ink returns—not to defend, nor chase the ghosts I used to fend. Not to explain the aching past, but breathe through wounds that couldn’t last. It does not rise with pointed proof, nor beg for silence turned to truth. It flows because the heart now dares to speak in lines what once hid there. Where words once cost too much to say, a softer voice now finds its way. No longer chained by fear or flame— the ink returns, and I remain. Each letter born from quiet grace, a tender reclaiming of space. No longer lost in fear’s dark night, but glowing now with steady light. The pages hold what heart has learned— a story told, a life returned. In every stroke, a soul set free, the courage found inside of me.