I learned to fall
like a leaf that knows the earth is its home,
but still hopes to be caught in the air.
I learned to collapse
into silences that know me better than any word.

Who am I,
if not a bridge between what was and what never came to be?
Who am I,
if not an echo that no longer remembers its own voice?

I scatter in every touch,
in every gaze that passes through me
without really seeing.
I scatter in memories I’ve never even lived,
but that still aches.

And yet,
in every fall,
in every misstep,
I find a poem.
A thread of light
that ties me to myself,
no matter how broken I may be.