Emma Atkins | + Follow Poet |
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the quiet return

There was a time  
when I couldn’t remember  
the sound of my own laughter - 
it had been so long
since I’d let myself forget the weight
of yesterday.

But today,
I woke to the light that isn’t harsh,
to the air that isn’t so heavy
with what was.

I don’t need to push it all away anymore -
the grief, the ache, the silence.
I’ve learned
to sit with it,
to let it breathe beside me
without letting it drown me.

I’ve started finding peace
in the small things -
the way the morning light spills across the floor,
the taste of coffee that’s mine alone,
the sound of my own feet
steady on the ground,
moving forward.

I don’t have all the answers,
but for the first time in a long while,
I’m not looking for them.
I’m here,
just being,
learning to love the space between
who I was
and who I’m becoming.

It’s not perfect,
but it's enough -
the slow unraveling, 
the quiet return,
and the feeling,
finally,
of being okay again.

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