Emergence

Ombres anciennes, lumière à venir

Du gris je suis née,
dans l’ombre j’ai appris à voir.
Chaque souffle, chaque éclat de lumière,
m’a ramenée à moi-même,
et maintenant je fleurie dans la couleur du monde.

« Au début, tout était gris. »
At the beginning, everything was gray.

Memories played in black and white,
like an old videotape left too long in the dark,
its edges fraying, its sound warped.
Each scene flickered past my eyes
as though the experience wasn’t mine at all
but borrowed from a stranger.

“Happiness. Breath. Life.”
The words echoed in my chest like an empty cathedral.
What did they mean, exactly?
Days blurred together,
one bleeding into the next,
until routine was no longer a pattern
but a slow drowning.

I lived because I existed.
I breathed because I hadn’t stopped yet.
And living felt like a wound —
as if the sorrows of others
were poured into me like ink
until they walked away lighter,
leaving me heavy with their shadows.

“Why me…” I whispered,
not sure if I wanted the world to answer
or stay silent.

I had grown up in a loving family,
but I was never the happy child.
Joy hovered around me like a scent
I could smell but not touch.
I reached for it in my studies,
in forced smiles,
in the careful posture of positivity.
But each attempt burned me out
like a candle flame shrinking,
its wax a hollowed-out shell.
Slowly, I became that shell.

Yet in the hollow there was a sound,
quiet at first —
a heartbeat,
a whisper.

Le monde attendait que je m’éveille.
The world waited for me to awaken.

And then, one day,
I met the source of my happiness —
the light to my life,
the lighter to my candle.
I wasn’t sure if fate was mocking me
or cheering me up,
but until that moment
I never knew happiness could feel this way.

All I had ever wanted
was right there, within my reach.
So, I held onto it.
Finally… someone who understood me,
someone who made my silent world echo.
For the first time,
my heart began to flourish like spring soil
after a long winter.

Since then, life feels worth living.
Each day spills with color,
each breath carries a purpose.
The world, once gray, now hums with life —
laughter rippling like sunlight on water,
trust settling like dew on the morning grass,
belonging wrapping me softly in its arms.

I am no longer a shadow wandering
through memories that weren’t mine.
I am a pulse, a flame, a voice
that finally belongs to itself.
I do not just exist —
I bloom, I rise,
I live.

— Written by Deerswanlie —