The Land Beyond Scars

There is a place where sickness cannot follow.

It lives just past the horizon,

where the air is soft, the sun is bright and the sky remembers your name.

Here, the rivers run with laughter,

and the trees grow tall from every dream you thought you’d lost.

And in this peaceful place,

when you walk, the ground glows gently beneath your feet.

A quiet applause for every time you stayed.

There are no hospitals here,

no scans, no waiting rooms full of whispers.

Only wind, light, and the music of your unbrokenness.

Here, you climb hills made of promise where each breath tastes like freedom

and rain after drought.

In this land, you are not the patient.

You are the poet, the sun maker, the wild thing who learned how to turn pain into petals.

And at night when the stars rise,

they whisper your story.

Not the story of survival, but of return.

Because here, you were never taken, and here you never stopped shining.