From Darkness Into The Light Poem by Gregory Grinham

I came from a place where the sun forgot my name,
where days bled into nights
and nights into nothing at all.
A hollow world,
quiet as a held breath,
heavy as a locked door.

But even in the thickest dark,
a pulse kept tapping —
soft, stubborn, alive.
A whisper saying not yet,
a spark refusing to die.

So I followed it.
Crawling first,
then standing,
then walking toward a horizon
I could not yet see.

And the darkness loosened.
Not all at once —
but like frost surrendering
to the first warm wind.

I learned the shape of my own courage.
I learned that healing is not a straight line
but a lantern carried through a forest,
lighting only the next few steps
and still being enough.

And now the light finds me
in places I never thought it would —
in the steadiness of breath,
in the quiet pride of choosing differently,
in the soft miracle of waking
to a life I am no longer running from.

I am not who the darkness said I was.
I am the one who walked out of it.
I am the one who rose.

And the light —
it isn't a destination.
It's a way of walking,
a way of seeing,
a way of becoming
that I carry with me now,
bright and unbroken.