A Letter Home Poem by Savva Emanon

Dear Heart,
I know you are tired.
I know there are mornings
when simply getting out of bed
has felt like climbing a mountain
no one else could see.

I know there have been days
when your smile arrived
before your strength did,
and nights when silence
seemed heavier than words.

But listen carefully.
You are not falling behind.

A flower does not bloom
because another flower blooms first.
The moon does not apologise
for its changing phases.

And the soul
has never measured its journey
by the world's impatient clock.

You are becoming.
Not despite the hard days,
because of them.

Every tear has softened you.
Every disappointment
has deepened your compassion.
Every moment you chose
to rise again has quietly rewritten
the story of your life.

So do not hurry your healing.

Do not measure your worth
by how productive you are,
how cheerful you appear,
or how perfectly you carry your pain.

Your worth
has never depended
on your performance.
It has always lived
within the simple miracle
of your existence.

One day,
perhaps sooner than you imagine,
you will look back
on these difficult seasons
not with sorrow,
but with gratitude.

For they did not diminish you.
They uncovered you.

Until then, be patient.
Be gentle.

And when you cannot believe in tomorrow,
believe in the next breath.
Then the next.
For every breath is carrying you,
quietly, faithfully,
back home to yourself.