Still, He Walks

 He wakes to light, but sees the grey,

A silent ache won't go away.

His heart-a room, once filled, now bare,

With echoes only grief would dare.

 

The smiles he wore are cracked and thin,

A war of storms he hides within.

But though his knees have kissed the ground,

He listens for the faintest sound

 

Of hope that hums beyond the pain,

Of sun that cuts through ghostly rain.

Each step, though small, is still defiance,

Each breath, a quiet act of science.

 

He doesn't roar, he doesn't scream,

But stitches strength through every dream.

And though the night still stalks his door,

He lifts his head and walks once more.