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Poem

In the forest of memories, my heart arches,
Like an old tree, with branches under departed dreams,
I open my arms to the heavens, bird-like wings,
Seeking light among the shadows of past days.
When I crumble into the soil of silence, I know,
Every fall is a forgotten lesson, a refrain of stubbornness,
Not to engrave my fragility in bones,
Like an old incantation I refuse to speak.
Why do I open my arms like gates to storms,
Just to feel the thrill whispering words of solace,
On the bruised skin of souls lost in the night?
I wish to keep my arms as secret gardens,
To wrap my heart in a cloak of silence,
Far from winds that tear, from hands that unravel it,
When it is of no use, maybe then I wouldn't fall,
Like a leaf floating on the endless river.
Every time my eyes behold,
Another heart broken by fate's path, I wonder,
Is it a savior's complex, a longing for peace,
In a world where only hearts like mine can be loved?
Even for a fleeting moment, despite the wounds,
Love finds rest in my heart,
A soul that refuses to protect itself,
Letting light seep through the cracks.
Perhaps, one day, my arms will learn,
To embrace only the sky, where love is born,
Asking for nothing in return, just to be,
Filling the soul with peace and hope.

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