I left no note upon the door, only my shadow on the floor. The moon was thin, the windows blind, and all the names I left behind were breathing softly in the rain, as if they knew I’d come again. Not as a woman made of grace, but as a soul without a place. And I do not know what calls me on. I only know I cannot stay. There is a light beyond the fear, and something lost knows the way. The soul takes the night road, alone but not afraid. Through the blue of the silence, through the debt that must be paid. The soul takes the night road, where the old ghosts run. Past the edge of the mirror, past the mercy of the sun. If I fall, let me fall where the dark begins to bloom. The soul takes the night road and returns with a different wound. The houses passed like sleeping eyes, the wires hummed beneath the skies. A dog barked once, a train went through, and every sound became a clue. I heard my childhood in the trees, my mother’s voice inside the breeze. I heard the life I did not choose walking softly in my shoes. And I do not know if this is grief, or some strange mercy wearing black. But every mile I take tonight is one more step I cannot take back. The soul takes the night road, alone but not afraid. Through the blue of the silence, through the debt that must be paid. The soul takes the night road, where the old ghosts run. Past the edge of the mirror, past the mercy of the sun. If I fall, let me fall where the dark begins to bloom. The soul takes the night road and returns with a different wound. Maybe we are not running. Maybe we are being led. Maybe every haunted road begins inside the head. Maybe what we fear the most is not the dark ahead, but the self that waits beyond it, still alive, not dead. The soul takes the night road, alone but not afraid. Through the blue of the silence, through the debt that must be paid. The soul takes the night road, where the old ghosts run. Past the edge of the mirror, past the mercy of the sun. If I fall, let me fall where the dark begins to bloom. The soul takes the night road and returns with a different wound. The road is awake when the city sleeps. Something inside me keeps walking.
