Gentle Reckoning
Gentle Reckoning
Dear wandering heart, bruised but still beating,
You sit in the quiet, where shadows grow long,
Chasing the ghost of her curls in the evening,
Fingers that ache for the song they once strung.
Remember the fit, like a glove to your palm.
Her warmth wrapping secrets, no edges to scar.
You were mirrors and magnets, opposites calm,
Known through the veils of lifetimes afar.
Oh, self, you miss the highways we'd claim,
Winds whipping wild through her laughter's soft call,
Coffees at dawn, steam rising like flame,
Her hand in your space, dissolving the wall.
Those rhythms we sang as our bodies entwined,
Notes turning sweat into symphonies sweet.
Wilderness trails where the earth felt aligned,
Sea salted quests on the edge of our feet.
And those midnight confessions, unraveling thread,
Of God in the whispers, realms beyond sight,
Faith like a lantern, trust chasing the dread,
Teases that bloomed into bursts of delight.
Her care was your harbor, a tide pulling near,
Mending the fractures you carried alone.
Now in the hollow, the echo rings clear:
You loved like a storm, and it carved you from stone.
But listen, old soul, to the ache turning wise.
This longing's a teacher, not thief in the night.
It honors the fire, the stars in her eyes,
And whispers of gardens yet born from the fight.
You're whole in the fragments, a map redrawn true,
With room for the wild, for the next dawn's soft cue.
Breathe deep, my reflection; the moon pulls you through.
With grace unfolding,
Yours, unbroken.
Copyright ©
Lev S | Year Posted 2025
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