She Bloomed in Her Own Time: Shafaq’s Spring

By [Hazrat ali]

— A Poem About Inner Bloom, Healing, and Light After Winter

Shafaq’s spring arrived on quiet feet,

Not with fanfare, not with heat.

But in the way the cold began to fade,

And sunlight lingered in the shade.

She didn’t even know it bloomed,

Until her soul felt less entombed—

Until the sky turned soft and wide,

And something gentle stirred inside.

The birds returned like whispered grace,

A robin watched her from its place.

The breeze no longer bit her skin,

But brushed her like a long-lost kin.

The trees, once bare and sharp with grief,

Now stretched with buds, shy with belief.

The stream she crossed in frozen days

Now sparkled in forgiving haze.

She paused one dawn, the meadow still,

Her breath in sync with daffodils.

The wounds she wore beneath her chest

Now throbbed less, allowed to rest.

And in that hush, a truth took wing:

You don’t need thunder to bring spring.

Sometimes it comes in softened tone—

A seed of hope, quietly grown.

And Shafaq bloomed, not loud, but deep,

With roots of love she chose to keep.

The world around her came alive,

But it was she who learned to thrive.