The Long Road Home
I have carried myself through miles of silence,
where the wind speaks louder than memory
and the ground keeps every secret.
I thought I had put out of sight.
A child’s laughter drifting through twilight,
the scent of rain that lingers like prayer,
and shadow in hand now behind my reach,
These are the pieces I collected along the way.
There are nights when the stars lean dazzling like lanterns strung across the dark,
showing the way about something unfinished,
something I swore to myself long ago.
The road teaches in whispers,
that regret has weight,
that love outlasts distance,
that every fall can still be a beginning.
I do not count the miles anymore.
I measure them in heartbeats,
in the quiet mercy of mornings
in the truth that waits at every turning.
And when I reach the place
where the horizon bends into light,
I will know I have not been running away,
but running toward—
the long road home.
Copyright © Rowena Velasco | Year Posted 2025
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