The One That Stayed Behind

I went hunting for what I’d lost—

but the trail began inside my own name.

___________**

Each sound of it echoed through the valley,

and even the wind seemed to listen,

waiting to see if I’d say it right this time.

___________**

The forest opened its ribs.

I walked through, careful not to wake the silence

sleeping between the roots.

___________**

The moon hung low, a dull coin

spent on another unanswered prayer.

___________**

I followed something I couldn’t see—

a shimmer between trees,

a breath that wasn’t mine.

___________**

It kept its distance,

like it wanted me to understand the ache

before it let me see the shape of it.

___________**

Once, I thought I saw eyes in the dark.

They looked like forgiveness

before I deserved it.

___________**

I almost reached.

But the reaching was the point.

The hunt is always the reaching.

___________**

At dawn, I found no beast, no sign, no body.

Only my own footprints,

circling back to where I’d started—

but softer this time,

as if I’d learned to walk with less hunger.

___________**

Now, when I pass through that forest,

I don’t chase the glimmer.

I wait for it.

___________**

Because not everything meant for you

wants to be caught.

Some things need to know you’ll stay,

even when they keep running.

***