Rust

The darkness had me
.

not suddenly,


not violently,


but thoroughly.

It didn’t drag me in.
 It waited until I stopped looking for exits.


It learned my breathing.


Learned when fear sharpened
 and when it dulled.


Learned how long I could sit with silence
 before I filled it myself.

Cold bars.


Close enough to count.


Too close to forget.

Chains wrapped my wrists, 
then my thoughts.


And the sound of them
,

not loud,


not cruel 


just constant


became proof I still existed 
somewhere.


Pain,

when it repeats,


starts calling itself normal.

I was chained to the wall

And the wall spoke back.

At first I thought it was comfort.


Later I learned it was confirmation.

It repeated my name


over
 and

over


until it fit inside the cell better than I did.

I heard the others.


Their cries leaked through the dark 
like unfinished prayers.


Their shadows stretched thin across the stone,


reaching,


fading,


disappearing.

I watched them go.


I stayed.

They tell you madness screams.


Mine whispered instructions.

Day and night I shook.


The cold didn’t surround me


it moved in.


Unpacked.


Made itself at home in my chest.

My body paled 
until even mirrors would’ve forgotten me.


My breath frosted the air like a signal


no one answered.


I carved lines into the wall,
 counting days


or maybe counting what was left of me.

How long must I endure this?


The wall never said.

It only listened.

My food was dust scraped from stone.


My water
,

tears I didn’t remember deciding to cry.

I survived
 on what suffering allowed.


And I prayed.

Not because I felt holy.


Not because I expected rescue.


But because the darkness grew restless
 when I spoke those words.

Do not lead me into temptation.


The room tightened.

Deliver me from evil.


Something shifted.

Give me this day my daily bread.


The chains pulled hard,
 as if hunger was the point.

Forgive me for my debts


as I forgive my debtors.


The walls went quiet.

I forgave everyone.


Even the ones who never came back.


Even the dark.

Especially the chains.

My tears rusted them.

slow,


honest,


unimpressive.

Pain didn’t break iron.

Time did.


Faith finished it.

One day,
 without warning,
 the chains loosened.

Not dramatically.


Not mercifully.


Just… finally.

I didn’t celebrate.


I didn’t cry.

Freedom, when you’ve been shaped by a cage,
feels unfamiliar.

I opened the gate.


The silence followed me


but it no longer spoke first.

Each step echoed
 like I was trespassing
 in my own life.

There were stairs.


I climbed them
 because going back felt easier to explain.

One breath.


One step.


Then another.

At the top


an altar.

Not polished.


Not loud.


Just waiting.


I lit the candle.

And the light
 didn’t negotiate.


Didn’t apologize.


Didn’t ask what happened to me.

It arrived.

The shadows recoiled.


The whispers scattered.


The cold retreated 
like it had finally been named.

The walls stopped remembering me.

The chains stopped calling.


The darkness knew my habits.


It knew my fear.


It knew my voice.

But the light


the light knew my name 
before the cell ever did.

It didn’t erase the dark.


It told it where it could no longer live.


I was not saved because I was strong.


I was not free because I endured.

I was claimed
 when the light answered.