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poem submitted to "1474" poetry contest, Brian Strand, sponsor, 5/19/2026
The day grows thin around my hands, a silence I barely understand; I breathe, though nothing sets me free~ and still this quiet lives in me. I walk through hours drained of light, too tired to argue with the night; I let the dark do what it will~ and still this quiet lives in me. Old hopes fall softly at my feet, like leaves that know their own defeat; I do not chase what used to be~ and still this quiet lives in me. Yet in the calm of letting go, a tender truth begins to show: resigned, I rest in what must be~ and still this quiet lives in me.
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