Healing & Becoming
Poetry about surviving, rebuilding, learning yourself again, and becoming someone new without pretending the bruises never happened.
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Some rescue looks like staying—sitting beside survivors, offering belief and choice, then returning the next morning despite every story carried home.
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In a windowless room, surviving becomes testimony, and healing begins when someone listens to the worst truth without disbelief.
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Humor becomes armor when the punchline lands before anyone can ask what grief, fear, or exhaustion is hiding beneath the laugh.
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Laughter becomes a locked door when jokes are easier to offer than the painful truths waiting just beneath the surface.
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Grief does not always leave; sometimes it grows roots beneath the ribs until healing means learning how to bloom around it.
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Changing does not betray the woman she was; it simply means some survival versions no longer need permanent rooms inside her.
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Healing means keeping the truth about mistakes and scars without letting either become the whole story.
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She spent too long putting herself on trial for someone else’s silence before realizing the crime was never being too much.
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Healing did not make her untouched; it taught roots to grow through wreckage and flowers to feed on what once tried to bury her.
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After years of searching for home in other people’s arms, she realizes the place she kept rebuilding was herself.
Between Bruises & Blooms 