
I kept a “hi”
Free on the tip of my finger,
Typed it a thousand times—
But never let it stay.

An “I miss you”
Drowned in my haste,
Erased before the truth
Could find its place.

So I burned those letters
Just to feel the flame,
Not to forget you—
But to channel the anger.

Now the smoke has cleared,
And my hands are clean…
I can write again.

I can say what I want to say:

Hi!

I thought silence
Was the gentlest sound,
That loving you from afar
Would keep you safe and bound.

But echoes tire
On a broken line—
And even the stars need
A signed sign.

So I burned those letters
Just to feel the flame,
Not to lose you—
But to erase your name.

Now the ashes are settling
Like almost snow that never fell to the ground…
I can write again.

I can let you in.

The same love.

Two extremes.

The same suspended breath
From the beginning.

All this time,
You were typing too—
And the line…
Never reached the end.

Hi.

… Hi.

Finally.

Get It On

Prophets of Peace

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