Walking Each other Home
I used to think that peace was just an exit sign, A quiet room where I could breathe and claim what’s mine. I fled the heavy walls, the loud, orthodox constraints, Only to find a world of shadows and restraints. The streets were full of hollow eyes, a cold and threatening stare; I thought if I grew sharp and strong, I’d conquer all the fear. I built a fortress in my mind, a safe and structured life: The perfect house, the scent of coffee, a gentle, healing life, A balcony of books and dreams to keep the storm at bay— A curated, quiet haven just to wash the past away. And then, you happened. You didn't come with armor, and you didn't start a war; You didn’t demand the broken pieces scattered on the floor. When the old anxiety would rise and steal my heavy breath, You didn't try to fix the world or lecture me to death. You simply held me gently in the middle of the deep, Until the trembling faded, and you loved me into sleep. We don't just sit beside the river, watching...