The gift of hindsight
was never meant to wound you.
It arrives like a late–night lantern,
gold and gentle,
showing what love tried to teach
before you were ready to see.
You don’t learn feminine presence
in calm waters.
You learn it in the seasons
that split you open,
when your softness feels too fragile
and yet somehow becomes your strength.
You don’t learn pacing
when life is kind.
You learn it
in the breath between breakdowns,
when the universe presses a quiet palm
against your chest
and murmurs,
Here. Rest. You move too quickly for your own heart.
You don’t learn how to receive
while everything stands steady.
You learn it
the moment your spirit buckles
under the weight of what you carried alone
—and love comes in to lift
what was never yours to hold.
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