Embers
Philadelphia, PA, USA

Sanctuary

You are not what they forgot—
not a name misplaced,
nor a shadow of what’s left,
an echo trapped in someone’s maze.

You are the breath after thunder,
a still hand brushing ash away
from scorched and stubborn gardens
and paths you never paved.

Something else has bloomed here—
despite everything.
There are birds nesting now,
their babies ready to take wing.
You are not the message unopened,
nor the post left unread.

You are the quiet truth
inside words left unsaid,
a pulse that still persists—
the song long sung,
yet echoing in your veins.

You are still here,
despite the silence sustained.
Let the statues crumble.
Let the echoes fade.

Your memory is not a monument
to the beds they made.

It is a river still moving,
still singing,
clearer after the storm—
unwilling to break.

There is no oubliette for the soul.
It rises through the bricks,
deafening the screams,
roaring defiance.

You’re not a fire, love—
not something to be tended.
You are the storm itself,
calming severed nerve endings.