Echo

It begins small,
as it always does.

A hand brushing against the bark,
gently caressing the wounds of our shared past.

A breath of clean air,
filling our lungs, mending our fears.

A bird that doesn’t fly away,
but chooses to stay near instead.

There are no grand beginnings.
Only small acts of caring and giving,
paying attention to even the smallest life.

And slowly,
the forest forgives,
and the world begins to heal —
one quiet kindness at a time.

We were never apart from this world —
we have always been its echo.