She Was Born In The Darkness. Poem by MIRAK Montiel

She Was Born in the Darkness
(A Tale Whispered by the Trees)

She was born in the darkness of the wild—
a place where stars whispered secrets to the soil
and the moon kept her name hidden in silver fog.
She came forth in silence, wrapped in roots and shadow,
not knowing that the dark would cling to her soul like a second skin.

Poverty was her cradle, despair her lullaby.
Yet the earth stirred gently around her,
as if the divine had planted something holy in her bones.

Her eyes never opened to light,
but the unseen bloomed within her—
a symphony of senses so rich,
they painted the world in colors no eye could hold.

She rose each dawn to sing with the winds,
and the winds answered.
She spoke to trees, and they bent low to listen.
Flowers unfolded to her voice,
offering their scents like sacred prayers.
Fruits ripened in her palm
without a season passing.

She wandered with bare feet,
guided by the hum of honeybees,
by the chorus of owls and rivers and stars.
The forest crowned her its oracle,
its daughter of silence and song.

She taught without words,
only the language of stillness and knowing.
Those who met her felt the warmth of unseen light,
heard truths bloom in their chest like wild roses.

Her story was etched in the bark of old trees,
carried in the songs of wind through the mountains,
retold by those whose lives she touched
with blessings shaped like miracles.

And now, I speak as one of them—
blessed, bewildered,
bearing witness to the magic
that walked once in human form.