Come nearer.
Not together.
The water still knows your weight.
You who crossed without record,
without witness,
with a life turning inside you,
insistent as pulse.
You who trained your body
to become a threshold,
a gate terror could not fully breach.
We speak without names
because they were stripped,
because breath was tallied,
not syllables.
You carried tomorrow
through salt and dark,
through hours that refused land,
through seas that would not answer.
If you sang, the water stored it.
If you wept, it thickened into tide.
If fear came,
you held.
We stand where you arrived
with nothing but survival.
Our mouths keep language
because yours bore silence.
Stay, if you choose.
Go, if you must.
We will not chain you to memory.
But know this:
every child still breathing,
every daughter still standing,
every woman who dares softness
speaks you
without sound.
©️EarthBranch
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 9:08 PM UTC
Come nearer.
Not together.
The water still knows your weight.
You who crossed without record,
without witness,
with a life turning inside you,
insistent as pulse.
You who trained your body
to become a threshold,
a gate terror could not fully breach.
We speak without names
because they were stripped,
because breath was tallied,
not syllables.
You carried tomorrow
through salt and dark,
through hours that refused land,
through seas that would not answer.
If you sang, the water stored it.
If you wept, it thickened into tide.
If fear came,
you held.
We stand where you arrived
with nothing but survival.
Our mouths keep language
because yours bore silence.
Stay, if you choose.
Go, if you must.
We will not chain you to memory.
But know this:
every child still breathing,
every daughter still standing,
every woman who dares softness
speaks you
without sound.
©️EarthBranch
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