I wandered through a forest grown dim,

branches thick with doubts,

shadows tangled in every path.

Some days, I forgot to look for the sun—

buried in endless night,

I saw no way forward.

Then, like a hush before dawn,

you arrived, gentle as morning light

slipping through tall pines.

Your laughter echoed among the trunks,

reminding me that green still thrived

beneath thick layers of fallen leaves.

With patient hands, you swept away debris,

revealing living soil where seeds might bloom.

You drew me to quiet streams,

their waters reflecting a sky

that dared to be bright,

even when clouds lingered at its edges.

Each day, you showed me

the wonder of small things:

a wildflower pressing through gravel,

the sweet hush of a deer in the distance,

an unexpected beam of light

on the darkest trail.

And so my roots began to unfurl

toward deeper waters,

my leaves reaching for the sky.

Where I once felt only brambles,

I now sense budding roses,

soft petals turned wide in hope.

Through you, I’ve learned

to listen for birdsong in stillness,

to trust in every new blossom,

to see how even the quiet rain

can nurture growth.

Your faith in my hidden garden

pulled me back to life.

Now, when I look at the forest—

I see promise in every branch,

and paths that lead to open glades.

In your company,

I’ve found the courage to greet the sunrise,

to blossom in my own shade,

and to know the beauty of being fully alive.

Roots of Renewal