Is the air lighter—

or am I only weary

of holding my breath?


Is that a glow in the window,

or a trick

of wanting

to believe again?


Something moves—

not enough to name,

just the faint suggestion

that silence

is listening back.


I can’t name it—

a hush

with a heartbeat,

a beginning stirring

where I’d feared

only endings remained.


Is this hope?

It might be.

I’m not sure—

but I find myself

hoping

it is.