At last, a quiet comes to me,
Not loud, not bright just gently free.
Where once the ache would always stay,
There now is space for softer day.

The wounds that lingered, sharp and deep,
Have loosened from their restless keep.
Not gone as though they'd never been,
But changed to something calm within.

I carry still what once had torn,
Yet it no longer feels forlorn.
For time and care have made it whole,
A steadier, more knowing soul.

There is a light that does not burn,
But warms in ways I've had to learn.
A patient glow, a quiet grace,
That finally feels like it has place.

And in this stillness I can see
The shape of who I'm meant to be--
Not unscarred, nor untouched by pain,
But healed enough to rise again.

So let the past rest where it lies,
No longer clouding clearer skies.
For in this heart, once torn apart,
There now is peace and it will start

To beat not out of fear or need,
But out of something whole indeed.
At last, I stand, both strong and real
And know, with truth: my heart can heal.

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Miraman, in the year 1003 AF.