Whispers of the Past

There are whispers that live in the quiet,

Echoes of the past, too soft to fight it.

They travel through the winds of memory,

Carrying the weight of things that used to be.

I used to fear them, those voices from old,

The stories they told, the wounds they unfold.

But with time, I learned they don’t own me,

They’re just fragments of who I used to be.

The past can’t hurt unless we let it,

It’s not a chain unless we forget it.

But when you look back, you start to see,

That those whispers were part of setting me free.

I’ve walked through fire, through doubt and pain,

But the lessons remain, like a gentle rain.

Each tear was a seed, each loss a part,

Planted deep within my heart.

And now, when those whispers call my name,

I no longer run, I no longer blame.

I listen, I understand, and then I let go,

Because I know that healing takes time to show.

So, let the whispers come and fade,

They remind me of the person I’ve made.