The Glow I Kept

I lit a lantern

when the dark came rushing in,

small as a heartbeat,

fragile as the faith I kept in you.

The glass shivered,

but the fire didn’t break.

I held it high,

like maybe it could guide us back.

Every shadow whispered

that I should let it die,

but I walked on—

barefoot through the wreckage,

hands trembling,

still carrying light.

You never came.

The door stayed closed,

your silence louder than the storm.

Yet the lantern kept burning—

not brighter, not blinding,

just steady.

And I began to see

it wasn’t meant to save us,

only me.

A glow for my own footsteps,

a promise I could hold,

a soft defiance—

that even in the deepest night,

I would not go dark.