Healing
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It’s four in the morning. The world has gone quiet,but my mind never got the memo. The clock keeps counting secondslike they’re something I can spend,while I bargain with sleepthat refuses to bargain back. The house is still.The coffee pot is empty.The moon watcheswithout offering advice. So I stand barefootin front of the refrigerator,bathed in…
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There are therapists who charge by the hour. There are forests that charge nothing. And somewhere between them is the curl of fragrant smoke lifting toward the ceiling like prayers without a religion. I don’t chase oblivion. I chase quiet. The kind where anxiety loosens, creativity stretches, and laughter finds its way home. Healing doesn’t…
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I used to think healing meant forgetting. That one day the memories wouldn’t hurt. The scars wouldn’t ache. The past wouldn’t whisper my name. But maybe healing isn’t becoming someone new. Maybe it’s learning to love the person who survived. The one who stayed. The one who fought. The one who kept choosing tomorrow even…
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I have been broken open more times than I can count. By loss. By love. By goodbyes I never got to prepare for. I have carried storms inside a body that still learned how to hold sunshine. There were days I wondered if I was disappearing. But somehow, between the cracks, something kept reaching upwards.…
Between Bruises and Blooms 