Fog.

My heart is learning to walk again

But my crutches are made of fog

Each step a whisper

soft with pain

Across a path the past might clog

The ground beneath is memory’s glass

It cuts with every stumbled pace

I trace the echoes as I pass

A ghost still longing for a place

The morning breaks in shrouds of gray

I reach for strength that won’t hold fast

But fog

though thin

won’t blow away

It clings like echoes from the past

Still onward

slow

I teach my feet

To trust in ground they cannot see

Though mist may blur

though fear repeats

There’s something rising still in me

One day I’ll walk without disguise

No phantom limbs

no veiled refrain

Just open roads and clearing skies

And love that doesn’t limp with pain