I used to carry shadows in my chest,
Of every word misspoken, every sting,
A heavy armor through a weary quest,
Forgetting how a heart is meant to wing.
But life is far too short for holding tight,
To anchors made of bitterness and dust.
I’m stepping out from cold and hollow night,
To trade my iron chains for quiet trust.
Forgiveness isn’t letting shadows win,
It’s clearing out the garden for the bloom;
It’s where the bravest stories all begin,
With light invited back into the room.
So now I choose the sun upon my face,
To walk the path where joy and hope align.
I’m claiming every moment, every space—
This happy, wild, and forgiven life is “mine.”
© Frieda Norma Dela Cruz
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