Spring at My Door

 

Spring at My Door

I hope this spring brings colors,
the ones that faded cruelly,
the ones torn away by force,
leaving my world pale and silent.

The autumn of my life is over now—
it taught me loss,
it stripped me bare,
it asked me to let go of what I loved
even when my hands were still holding on.

Winter came heavy,
dark and endless,
but I survived its cold nights,
counting breaths instead of dreams.

Now spring stands at my door.

I open my heart again—
carefully, bravely—
with scars still warm
and hope trembling in my palms.

The darkness left a while ago,
quietly, without announcement.
And light—
soft, patient light—
has begun to reach me again.

I hope this spring brings colors back,
not the old ones I lost in the dark,
but new shades born of pain and courage,
colors that know how to bloom
after breaking.

                         KULSOOM AFZAL