The world had shrunk to four grey walls

 The world had shrunk to four grey walls,

A whisper where a voice once soared.

Each breath a labour, sharp and slow,

Life's vibrant hum, a sound ignored.

The body, once a sturdy frame,

Now fragile, weary, holding tight,

A flickering, uncertain flame,

Lost in the long, encroaching night.

Then, in the quiet, shadows deep,

A tiny tremor, hope's soft hum.

A promise that I dared to keep:

To rise again, no longer numb.

A turning tide, a hidden spring,

A will to push, though pain was rife,

To claim the joy that life could bring,

And step back into vibrant life.

The first small steps, a heavy grace,

Each morning, practice, slow and sure.

A weary smile upon my face,

As healing sought its rightful cure.

Through quiet days and restless nights,

The body mended, stitch by stitch,

Guided by gentle, guiding lights,

Across the shifting, tender ground.

The scent of rain, a crisp autumn day,

The taste of food, a simple grace.

Colors returned in bright array,

A smile found its familiar place.

The sun upon my skin, so warm,

The distant sound of children's play,

Escaping grief's relentless storm,

Embracing light, come what may.

Not just the body, but the soul,

Was forged anew in sorrow's fire.

A deeper sense of being whole,

A quiet, humble, strong desire

To savor moments, small and vast,

To cherish breath, the sky above.

The shadow of the illness passed,

Replaced by gratitude and love.

The scars remain, a silent map,

Of battles fought and victory won.

A whispered truth within life's lap,

The journey's only just begun.

From fragile form to thriving bloom,

A testament to what can be.

Emerging f

rom the silent room,

Reclaimed, restored, triumphantly.