The Forest Knew My Name

I stepped off the path where the signs fell away

Where the light didn’t reach and the roots softly swayed

The trees didn’t speak but they somehow forgave

Every thought I had buried, pretending I’d changed

The moss took my weight like it already knew

The burden I carried, the lies I outgrew

I whispered “I’m tired,” but said it too late

And the forest just listened—didn’t judge, didn’t wait

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And I thought I was lost

But I wasn’t alone

Every silence I feared

Was a doorway back home

No map in my hand

No fire, no flame

But the wind curled around me

And it softly said my name

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I passed an old tree that looked just like me

With branches all broken in need of belief

Its rings spelled a truth I had long left unread

That growing still hurts, even after you’ve bled

I knelt at a stream made of all that I missed

Where memories float like unfinished lists

And I drank what I could from the parts that remain

Till the forest exhaled and remembered my name

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No trail ever stays

No voice ever stays the same

But the quiet is honest

And the stillness remains

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So I gave up the compass

Let go of the flame

Let the dark wrap around me

Without needing shame

And the stars didn’t guide me

They just watched, unashamed

While the forest I feared

Finally whispered my name

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I am not where I was…

But I’m closer than I seem…

And the forest still grows

In the shape of my dreams

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