I left the wedding lighter,
Not because it hurt less,
But because I understood,
Some meetings return
Only to teach us
How deeply
We once felt,
Seven Years Later.
We stood close enough to speak,
Yet chose silence instead.
I searched her face for permission,
She looked away with practice.
Words rose,
Then learned restraint.
In that pause,
Seven years spoke for us.
We stood in the same frame,
Borrowing smiles
From someone else’s happiness.
The camera believed
We belonged together.
It never knew
How loud our silence was.
If someone brings back
another’s memories,
who is great?
the one who returns them,
or the one who lived them?
Great is the one who returns.
Etched is the one who creates.
Lost is the one who searches.
Found is the one who remembers.