The Roots That Held My Shadow

The Roots That Held My Shadow

My roots were born,

in quiet rooms,

where fear grew slow,

and never slept.

They held me tight,

through broken nights,

when every breath,

felt far from safe.

I learned to move,

with careful steps,

because the dark,

was always near.

Yet even then,

a fire lived,

too faint to see,

too strong to kill.

My branches rose,

like silent cries,

stretching for air,

through tangled grief.

They reached for hope,

with trembling strength,

as if each leaf,

might save my name.

Still shadows cling,

to where I stand,

soft in weight,

hard in truth.

The past stays close,

but not as chains,

it shapes my bones,

and teaches fight.

So here I am,

between the pull,

of what I was,

and who I choose.

My roots hold pain,

my branches rise,

and in that clash,

I find my way.