The Silent Giver

They call me failure,

A shadow with nothing to show—

Not knowing the seeds I planted

In the gardens where they grow.

I gave what I had,

Each heartbeat, each breath,

Not for applause,

But to carry them past death.

I built their bridges

From the bones of my spine,

Lit their path forward

While I fell behind.

No trophies, no praise,

Just echoes that fade—

But their triumphs were born

From the price that I paid.

If only they saw

What I chose to release—

Not for my glory,

But to gift them peace.

Shadow

You are the shadow that follows me through every day—

with every turn I take,

and, most of all, with every fall,

you’re there.

I never asked for this,

and yet, you came.

You saw me—bent,

broken—

and chose to lend your strength.

Now,

I stand a little taller,

a little straighter,

and so much stronger—

because of you.

The wind no longer pushes me down;

it lifts me as I walk.

The crows no longer circle overhead;

they pass by,

never giving me a second glance.

And the ground—

it feels firm beneath my feet,

as if it carries me with quiet magic.

Funny, isn’t it?

To live in the company of a shadow

that feeds my every moment of light.

That’s what you are—

my shadow.

Not darkness,

but a lifeline

that keeps me standing.