Choose the path that lets your spirit breathe,
Stand with your friends where honesty is kind,
What serves your heart will gently serve them too,
In caring for yourself, you leave light behind.
JH
Tag Archives: poetry
New year
In 2025, the world rattled like loose change in a storm
Voices clashed, fears flared, hearts forgot their shared warm form
Yet from the noise grew listening, slow hands learning grace
Till chaos bent toward peace, and kindness found its place.
JH
****
Em 2025 o mundo tilintou como moedas soltas na tempestade
Vozes chocaram, medos arderam, corações esqueceram a sua humanidade
Mas do ruído nasceu a escuta, mãos lentas a aprender a graça
Até que o caos se curvou à paz e a bondade encontrou o seu espaço.
JH
Winters Grasp
The long night settles like a velvet cloak
Quiet stars whisper to the sleeping earth
The frost paints silver on every rooftop
And the moon glows with tender rebirth
Our breath becomes prayer in the crystal air
Soft clouds drifting from our waiting lips
Old stories rise where the shadows gather
And time slows to the beat of winter’s heart
In the hush we feel a stirring of hope
A shy promise beneath the frozen field
The dark holds the seed of light within it
Bright treasure hidden but soon revealed
So we lift our gaze to the patient heavens
And welcome the dawn that follows the night
For even the coldest hour of winter
Holds the first warm note of returning light
JH
Now
I stand in this breath
as if it were a soft doorway
opening to the wild hush of everything.
The world leans in
holding its cup of warm light
and I drink it slowly.
Time forgets its hurry
and becomes a friendly stray
curling at my feet.
For a moment
there is no before
no after
only this
bright bead on the string of living.
JH
In Quiet Fields
In quiet fields where soft winds roam, we stand
And feel the breath of those who marched before.
Their names drift through the grass like distant sand
And settle in our hearts forevermore.
We promise them our memory will stay
As still as dawn that trembles into day.
The poppies rise in gentle crimson light,
Their petals catch the turning of the sun.
They glow as if they gathered up the night
Then traded it for hope when morning won.
So when their red blooms stir beneath the sky,
We look, we breathe, we remember why.
JH
Honesty
Soft truth in the air
Voices clear as morning bells
Hearts open like dawn
Eyes meet without shade
Words fall pure as spring water
Trust blooms in still light
JH
How Can You Sit and Be Silent?
How can you sit and be silent,
while children fade from the sky?
Do your lips not burn with the question
how long, how long, and why?
A man builds thrones from his lying tongue,
and truth is left to die.
Your silence is a shadow’s song
and even shadows cry.
JH
Autumn is here
The air grows cool with whispers low
As leaves drift down in a golden flow
The trees wear crowns of russet and flame
Each day arrives yet never the same
A hush of smoke curls from distant fires
The dusk draws near with tender desires
Crisp apples gleam in the orchard light
And owls awaken to sing through the night
The earth now rests in a slower song
The season knows where hearts belong
In fields of bronze and skies of grey
Autumn invites us to linger and stay
JH
I Am / I’m Not
I am a voice that listens,
a heart that leans forward,
a soft light in the corner of the room.
I’m not the door that slams,
not the echo of anger
that bruises the air.
I am a hand reaching out,
a thread tying strangers
to the same bright sky.
I’m not the scissors of cruelty,
not the knife of silence
that cuts connection in two.
I am curiosity,
the spark that asks why
and keeps asking.
I’m not the wall that blocks,
not the heavy lock
on imagination’s gate.
I am a messy, learning. human
a traveller carrying both shadows and suns.
I’m not perfect,
but I’m not done,
and I won’t be done
until love has the final word.
JH
Letting Go
There’s a moment in the hush between heartbeats,
When holding on becomes heavier than hope
and in that silence,
you learn the art of release.
You untie the knots you tied in stormy weather,
loosen your grip on ghosts in the mirror,
and find that your hands
though empty
are free.
The past does not apologise,
nor promise not to sting.
But you,
gentle and fierce,
choose peace over proof,
flight over fear.
You are not the branch that broke,
you are the wind that moved on.
Not the anchor rusting below,
but the tide that still sings to the moon.
So let go,
not in weakness
but in wild, sacred strength.
Let go like dusk lets go of the sun,
trusting it will rise again.
JH
Julan62 