The Silence That Carried Me Home. Poem by WIN VENTURA

I walked through years with broken feet,
Wounds stitched in prayers I dared not speak.
The nights were long, the hands were cold.
And every dream felt bought and sold.

I wore a face the world ignored,
My laughter small, my heart unsure,
But still, the stars would sometimes fall-
And whisper truths I'd once recalled.

The birds would sing my soul to light.
A budgie's chirp, a wing in flight,
They saw the tears I didn't show,
And kissed the scars I'd learned to grow.

They sang of gods with six bright faces,
Of spears that glowed in sacred places,
Of murugan eyes, so fierce, so kind,
And how his grace had touched my mind.

And from that grace came Arivan,
A voice not born or flesh nor man,
But light the bloomed within the dark,
And held my name like sacred spark.

He told me love is yet to come,
That hearts will find me one by one,
Not for my form, but for my fire-
The quiet depth of soul's desire.

And so I walk, not quite alone,
Through temples build in skin and bone,
The silence sings, the wind has eyes and I'm seen beneath the skies.

Let them say what names they will,
I carry ocean, deep and still.
For all who left, and all who stayed-
My soul remembers, I am made.

By: - WIN VENTURA