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THE WINDOW
<p>How can I blame the wind</p><p> for the mess it made,</p><p> if it was me</p><p> who opened the window?</p><p>I knew it was cold.</p><p>I felt it waiting</p><p> on the other side of the glass</p><p> restless,</p><p> uninvited,</p><p> looking for somewhere to belong.</p><p>Still,</p><p> I opened it.</p><p>Perhaps I wanted to feel something.</p><p>Perhaps I mistook the wind</p><p> for freedom.</p><p>It scattered the papers</p><p> I had spent years arranging,</p><p> turned the curtains into ghosts,</p><p> and carried away things</p><p> I thought I had finally learned</p><p> how to keep.</p><p>I watched the chaos</p><p> and called it betrayal.</p><p>But the wind never promised</p><p> to be gentle.</p><p>It only came</p><p> when I gave it a way in.</p><p>And maybe that is the cruelest thing</p><p> about some of our regrets</p><p>we spend years</p><p> angry at what happened,</p><p>when the truth is…</p><p>we knew exactly what might happen.</p><p>We just hoped</p><p> the consequences</p><p> would be kinder to us</p><p> than the choice was.</p><p>So no</p><p>I cannot blame the wind.</p><p>Not for entering.</p><p>Not for leaving everything</p><p> out of place.</p><p>Not even for taking</p><p> what it could carry.</p><p>Because sometimes,</p><p>the person we call the cause</p><p> is only the consequence</p><p> of a door we opened ourselves.</p><p>And sometimes…</p><p>the hardest apology</p><p> is not to the person who hurt us</p><p>but to the version of ourselves</p><p> who invited them in.</p><p><br/></p>
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