Sorrow, Revised
I learned to bruise the dark with dawn,
to split the night so breath went through.
What once was silence learned a song,
and sorrow dressed itself in blue.
I let the ache become a glow,
a seam of gold the hours could find.
Your eyes, once heavy, learned to know
how mercy looks when it is kind.
My words did not demand belief—
they rested, patient, warm, and still.
And healing came, not sharp with grief,
but like a lake that learns its will.