The Quiet Testimony

 

When I behold you after all these years,

a quiet art awakens

in the hushed chambers of my soul.

We do not bleed when memory stirs—

yet once, the wound spread deep

through the silent architecture of my heart.

What once softened in our sleep

now lingers, a ghost lost in the corridors of time and space.

We are left with scars—

faint, tender inscriptions—

testimonies of tempests, of shadowed nights.

The body, wise in its forgetting, lets go,

and pain becomes a trace:

your name, a silent story etched upon my heart,

the fingerprint of time’s grace.

The heart’s old wounds—long sealed—

once told their aching stories.

Now, their pain lies buried,

but beneath the bone, where the most fragile truths abide,

another silence remains.

The soul, too, bears its hidden marks—

those we were taught to conceal.

The parting left a subtle devastation,

softened only by the long hush of years,

by healing hands and unshed tears.

Even the pain once sharp as breath

has dulled in the slow passage of time.

What was fractured has found its shape again—

still soft, but not with sorrow.

So we walk now with eyes made gentle,

with hands that practice restraint,

with touch that knows where healing lies,

and what must not be disturbed.

We step softly through unseen spaces,

knowing the ache we each carry.

We speak the language of quiet rain,

of words that mend,

of stories pressed deep beneath our ribs—

hardened and hidden.

Mercy is not born in suffering,

but in how we cradle our wounds—

in how we tend to each other with reverence.

To remember love’s pain without despair

is a fragile, sacred prayer—

a testament that wounds endure,

a testament to love’s resilience.

For within every scar, visible or veiled,

dwells an uncontrollable power—

a quiet testimony of grace,

the beauty of your sacrifice and mine.

So let us honor every mark—

the luminous and the shadowed,

the radiant and the dim—

for each bears witness to you and me,

to day and to night.

And though the wounds may fade,

the pure light of my love for you

shall remain—

forever tender, forever radiant.