Loved into bloom

It wasn't thunder, not a storm
but rain that knew just where to fall.
A touch so quiet, yet so sure,
it woke the wild within it all.

They did not lift me from the dark,
nor feared the ghosts I could not name.
They simply stayed, soft as a breath
and loved me through the ache and flame.

No need to shine for them to see,
no mask, no song, no borrowed light.
Their love, a mirror clear and deep,
that showed me whole, and burning bright.

Each wound, a petal in their palms,
not flaws but proofs I dared to grow.
And in their gaze, I found my bloom
a fire fed, a golden glow.

They loved me right, not loud, but true,
with hands that healed without a word.
And in that quiet, sacred space,
I rose, reborn in all I'd heard.

By Jo K.