rog's poems

maybe it’s time to let go,
to let the weight slip from my shoulders
and let the wind carry me somewhere softer.

i’ve known joy-
real, radiant moments of laughter,
warmth that filled the cracks,
even if just for a while.
i held those moments close,
and i hope they felt it too.

i’ll miss them-
the smiles, the voices, the love
that stitched me together
when i thought i’d unravel.
and maybe they’ll miss me too,
but i think they’ll understand
that i tried.

i did my best.
are you proud?
i hope so,
because i gave everything i had
to a world that never stopped spinning,
even when i stood still.

and now,
i think it’s time.

heart beating quick,
a thunder in my chest,
echoing fears i can’t name.
will it stop?
or will it carry me away?

the world tilts,
narrowing,
blurring,
every sound too sharp,
every thought too loud.

breathe.
find the thread of air,
follow it back to now.

breathe.
it’ll be okay,
a promise whispered to the storm.

breathe again.
and again.
until the calm finds you.

the night slips closer,
a quiet tide swallowing the edges of the sky,
and darkness knocks at the door,
soft but insistent,
a weight i can no longer hold back.

i’m sorry,
i have to go.
i tried,
with every fragile piece of me, i tried.
please don’t be mad.

don’t forget me-
your smile lit paths i thought i’d never walk,
held me in moments i thought i’d fall.
you helped me make it this far,
and for that,
you will always carry my light.

the years were not kind,
but neither was i fragile.
i stumbled, i fell,
yet i rose, again and again.

every scar, a map
of the places i thought
i’d never escape.

but i’m here.
and that,
is reason enough to be proud.

is it time?
snow melts, slipping away without a sound.
leaves fall, no struggle, no second thought.
the wind calls my name, over and over.

i’ve held on too long.
fought too hard.
for what?

the rain doesn’t fight.
it falls.
it sinks.
it disappears into the earth,
forgotten before morning.

maybe i should too.
let go.
drift.
be nothing.

no more waiting.
no more hoping.
no more.

just quiet.
just the wind carrying me away.
just the rain washing me clean.

just nothingness.

the gravel crunches soft beneath my steps,
moonlight spilling through the trees
lighting up the unknown.

it’s quiet,
but not empty-
just the kind of quiet
that makes you feel like the world’s still listening.

leaves shift in the dark,
a breeze brushes past
like someone almost saying something.

the stars hang low and easy,
not watching, just there-
steady, familiar,
like they’ve been waiting
to walk with me a while.

no questions here,
no need to answer.
just me, the night,
and the pull
of someplace i can’t name.

the sky spills its gold slowly,
a hush falling over rooftops and trees,
like the world is folding itself into a soft sigh.

the light clings a little longer
to the edges of life,
as if unsure about leaving.

i watch it go,
not saying much-
just listening to the quiet
beneath the quiet.

somewhere between the dusk and dark
a weight shifts
just enough to go unnoticed.

even in the silence
of an empty forest,
the tree
still remembers how to cry
on its way down.

in English, we say “It is what it is.”

in poetry, we say:

“the sun will set,
the tide will turn,
the stars will rise and fall again,
and the rose will bloom.

time will not stop
as the world turns
and the wind blows.

it may not always be fair,
or kind,
or clear,
but it’s okay.”

the wind presses in-
soft, then cruel,
yet the lantern quivers,
a quiet flame holding firm,
never letting go of its light.