Wintering Heart

My heart has been wintering,

And I used to hate that word

Like rest was laziness

wearing a pretty coat.

﹁﹂

But the mornings are darker lately,

even at eight,

And my body moves slower

like it’s listening to something

I ignored for years.

﹁﹂

I stopped forcing “fine.”

I stopped polishing my sadness

into something marketable.

Now I drink soup from the pot

and call it dinner,

and that counts.

﹁﹂

Outside, bare trees hold their branches up

like quiet questions.

They don’t apologize

for looking empty.

They’re saving energy.

They’re surviving.

﹁﹂

I’m learning to do that too.

To say: not today.

To cancel plans without a novel-length excuse.

To sleep, to nap, to stare at the ceiling

and let my mind be messy

without trying to mop it up.

﹁﹂

Sometimes I worry I’m disappearing.

But then I remember:

Winter isn’t the end,

It’s a pause with purpose

a hidden work,

roots doing their secret thing

under all that cold.

﹁﹂

So yes, I’m quiet.

Yes, I’m resting.

And somewhere inside,

I’m getting stronger.