Hanging in the Gray


 In this quiet gray shadow, I linger,

Not lost, not fully here,

Like a picture slowly fading,

Its colors worn and sheer.


I see my shadow on the walls,

Where light once used to stay,

Now softened by the dust of time,

That settles day by day.


I move through hours like drifting smoke,

A ghost with measured breath,

Breathing in, breathing out,

Practicing closeness with life, not death.


I float like boats on silent seas,

Where hope is low and thin,

Where feelings curl and fall asleep,

And currents pull within.


My eyes stay dry, no tears appear,

No joy ignites my face,

Yet sorrow doesn’t claim me too-

I’m paused in this strange place.


Just a steady hum of being here,

Of staying, not retreating,

A fragile thread I still hold tight,

A life that’s softly beating.


I answer when I must respond,

I go where days require,

I endure, I carry on,

Though disconnected, tired.


And maybe you know this space too well-

Where feeling used to grow,

Where warmth slipped out like evening light,

And left a muted glow.


Time bends here, strangely shaped,

Each moment bleeding through,

So if you feel the days all blur,

Know this: it’s not just you.


You may forget what joy feels like,

Or how the hours should sound,

Trapped in this half-awake world,

Where solid ground feels drowned.


It can feel like watching life from far away,

A memory cold and thin,

Standing still while everything moves,

Unsure how to step back in.


You’re not fallen down, not rising yet,

Not trapped, but not set free,

Just hanging in this quiet place

Of aching tranquility.


But listen now-please listen close-

You are more than this gray state,

More than numbness, more than pause,

More than how long you’ve had to wait.


Even if you can’t feel it yet,

Your depth is still alive,

Your soul remembers morning light,

Even when you can’t arrive.


This stillness lies and says it’s forever,

But it doesn’t speak the truth,

For darkness always has an end,

Even when it feels uncouth.


So when you doubt, and when you fade,

When nothing feels quite clear,

Remember: light does not demand-

It waits patiently near.


There is a spark you haven’t lost,

Though hidden, soft, and small,

And when you’re ready-not before-

You’ll feel it when you call.


So be gentle with your breathing now,

With how you move and stay,

You’re not broken-you’re becoming,

Even in this gray .

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