Not yet spring

I thought the thaw had come at last,
the ice inside began to pass—
light cracked through branches overhead,
and I believed the storm had fled.

But shadows pooled behind my eyes,
like dusk that waits beneath disguise.
The ground gave way beneath my feet—
a quiet fall, a dark repeat.

I held my breath; the dark returned,
the lessons lost, the bridges burned.
I wept for healing half-complete,
for ghosts I thought I’d made retreat.

So here I sit inside the night,
still searching for a spark of light.
And though I fell, I still begin—
not from the start, but deep within.