Gentle sun rests on Polish fields,

white blossoms catching its last quiet breath.

Light lingers just a moment longer,

as if it, too, remembers the way back.

The land exhales winter without words,

and something in me softens with it.

This land opens her arms,

not with noise, but with knowing.

When I inhale the scent, my body remembers. This is familiar, this feels safe.

I have returned,

not to a place,

but to a feeling that was waiting all along.