Ghosts of Regret

We tend to forget what the heart wrote in light,

The whispers of dawn, the truths born of night.

The lessons hard-won, the grace freely given,

The warmth of a moment, the hush of the heaven.

We forget how it felt to be whole in the pain,

To dance in the puddles, to smile in the rain.

We misplace the names of the things that bring peace,

While holding too tightly to what should release.

We remember too often the words that cut deep,

The shadows that wake us when trying to sleep.

The faces long gone, the shame we once bore,

We carry them daily—though needed no more.

Why do we cling to the ghosts of regret,

And stitch old wounds so we never forget?

Why does the mind replay sorrow and sting,

But silence the song that made our soul sing?

Perhaps it is fear, or some fractured design,

That makes us recall what should fall behind.

But the soul—it still knows, though quiet and slight—

To unlearn the darkness, and live in the light.