The Quiet Things That Saved Me

I was saved by quiet things— The rustle of the morning breeze, The way the robin spreads its wings, The golden drift of autumn leaves. I was saved by threads of light That touched my skin through broken blinds, By distant stars that pierced the night, By echoes I had left behind. I was saved by falling rain— The softest tears the sky could spill. Each drop a whisper in my brain That life could move, and I was still. I was saved by silent seas, By moonlight painted on the floor, By all the things that asked no pleas But held me when I asked no more. I was saved by open hands— The strangers’ smiles, the quiet nods, The random footprints in the sand, The laughter shared in fleeting odds. I was saved by little songs That only sorrow’s heart could hear, By knowing pain does not belong, Yet teaches us to persevere. I was saved by seeds that grew Inside the ruins of my chest, By learning endings are not true— That every grave gives birth to rest. I was saved by love unseen, By gentler winds, by whispered grace. And though the hurt has always been, The quiet things still find their place.