I am not one who seeks salvation,
Nor one who clings to guilt’s persuasion.
My heart’s a field in autumn’s reign,
Where silence grows across the plain.

I never called the storms to start,
I only knew to love the spark.
And when you stopped before the brink —
I turned aside, I didn’t sink.

I will not be your spring’s delight,
Nor wander through your dreams at night.
Yet when you’ll think of what has been,
The flame will fade — your final scene.

Unspoken light, so strange, so clear,
That warms the night, then disappears.
I am no captive, no decree —
I was — and goodness stays with me.

Elisa Ryschkow