Rhythm of Fate -II -The Nest Remains

 

She left before the morning caught its breath,
A whisper in the hallway, a hush that felt like death.
No storm, no scream, no slamming of the door—
Just silence, thick and certain, and nothing more.
I watched from behind the curtain's weary veil,
As she stepped into love, so fragile and frail.
And I stood, heart clenched, by the cradle of years,
Holding the weight of her laughter and tears.
We gave her a nest stitched of worry and prayer,
Of late-night fevers and brushed back hair.
Each scraped knee a battle, each birthday a flame,
But children don't linger where they’ve learned your name.
They chase after voices more thrilling, more bright,
Drawn to the flicker that mimics true light.
She called it love—I didn’t argue or fight.
Some things must collapse to be proven right.
But when it all curdled, as we feared it might,
She turned not to us, but to shadows and spite.
Behind some screen where revenge is spun,
She became the jailbird, wings undone.
We watched, unread messages piling like snow—
And the daughter we knew grew further to go.
The world points at us, says we must have failed,
That love well taught would have somehow prevailed.
But even the best-raised may still choose the flame—
And even a phoenix can rise with no name.
I walk past her room, still made and neat,
As if she might return and take her seat.
And though she’s a jailbird by her own design,
This nest remembers: her roots are mine.
So I keep a light in the kitchen window, low—
For the night she comes back with no place to go.
Not to scold, not to fix what cannot be undone,
But to simply say, you are still someone's one.