⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ I’ve walked behind what’s gone before Their names in bark, their breath in spore I do not chase. I do not call. But I still hear them when I fall ⸻ I found an acorn by the gate It held the shape of all they gave Not words, not gold, not anything— Just silence tied with offering There’s ash on the path where the old ones tread And I carry it soft in the songs I’ve bled No lantern left, no voice ahead— Just roots where their stories led ⸻ I’ve buried things I never named I’ve let go gently just the same I am not whole. I am not right. But still I sing into the night ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ There’s ash on the path where the old ones tread And I carry it soft in the songs I’ve bled No lantern left, no voice ahead— Just roots where their stories led ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ They do not walk beside me They do not guide my feet But where the moss is thickest I hear them in the beat ⸻ There’s ash on the path where the spirits fell And I carry it not to mourn, but tell That grief is the ground where I still kneel well— And sing, and plant, and dwell ⸻ That’s all I know. That’s all I keep. ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻
