The Way Home

I have been wandering the edges of who I used to be,

enjoying a tenderness I almost remember.

The silence has grown soft around me,

almost kind, therefore I no longer fear the echo of my own steps.

Instead, I am eager to take them.

Somewhere beneath the doubt that has haunted me, something small is stirring.

I feel my pulse, strong as ever.

I hear whispers that sound like maybe.

Maybe I am not lost,

perhaps I have only been waiting to remember the

way back to myself.