Sometimes the past sits on my shoulders,
heavy as a winter sky,
and I feel the cold
of every night I thought I was alone.
I learned to keep small fires inside me,
to light them quietly,
so they wouldn’t startle anyone else.
A laugh, a memory, a rhythm—
tiny sparks in a world
that wanted me to be still.
I carry them still,
these little fires,
proof that I survived,
proof that even when the storm rages,
a small flame can guide the way home.
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 3:24 PM UTC
Sometimes the past sits on my shoulders,
heavy as a winter sky,
and I feel the cold
of every night I thought I was alone.
I learned to keep small fires inside me,
to light them quietly,
so they wouldn’t startle anyone else.
A laugh, a memory, a rhythm—
tiny sparks in a world
that wanted me to be still.
I carry them still,
these little fires,
proof that I survived,
proof that even when the storm rages,
a small flame can guide the way home.
Even when the world seems cold and heavy, small flames of courage and hope remind us that we survive. The universe is always balancing—darkness and light, sorrow and joy, challenge and triumph—teaching us to carry our fire and grow into who we were always meant to be.
