The Art of Returning

Dr. Deepak Dev

— for the ones who stayed through winter

Some winters arrive without snow —

only the long ache of unfinished warmth.

Even the mirrors frost inward,

as if the soul has forgotten its reflection.

But the earth knows better.

It keeps its promises underground —

roots rehearsing resurrection,

petals studying silence until they can speak again.

Renewal is not a sunrise.

It’s a hand reaching through cold air,

finding pulse where no pulse was expected.

It’s the body remembering it once belonged to light.

Every thaw is an act of faith,

not in what returns,

but in what endured unseen.

When the solstice breathes its first pale dawn,

I will not pray — I will listen.

For in that hush,

you can hear the quiet miracle of warmth

deciding to begin again.