Door cracked open
Thin gold line
My hand moves first
Before my mind

I came through the rooms that took my name
Came through the quiet with my jaw half-clenched
There’s dust on my sleeve from the floor I crossed
And a mark on the wall where my shoulder pressed
I’m not walking clean
I’m not walking free
But the dark left a seam
And it’s calling me

Still I reach
With a tired hand
For the door, for the day
For whoever understands
I don’t have the whole way back
I don’t need a speech
With my heart still missing
Still I reach

There’s a crack in the curtain where the morning gets in
Not bright, not easy, just enough to begin
I stretch my fingers toward a half-lit room
Like touch might teach me what hope can do
I’ve closed up before
I know that shape
But I’m done letting hurt
Choose what I take

Still I reach
With a tired hand
For the door, for the day
For whoever understands
I don’t have the whole way back
I don’t need a speech
With my heart still missing
Still I reach

A year from now, maybe this room looks smaller
Maybe my name fits back in my mouth
Maybe I laugh without checking the corner
For what the ache is doing now
But even if I’m still this worn
Even if the wound still speaks
I want the part of me that opens
To be stronger than the part that leaves

Still I reach
With a tired hand
For the door, for the day
For whoever understands
I don’t have the whole way back
I don’t need a speech
With my heart still missing
Still I reach

Still I reach
Past the old shut door
Past the chair, past the ache
Past who I was before
Not to prove I’m finished
Not to call this peace
Just because I’m living
Still I reach

Door cracked open
Thin gold line
My hand stays lifted
One more time