Healing & Becoming
Poetry about surviving, rebuilding, learning yourself again, and becoming someone new without pretending the bruises never happened.
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Before the children wake and the house fills with need, a few quiet minutes become enough room to hear herself again.
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Secrets lose their power once fear stops feeding them, leaving peace as the only knowledge she needs to keep.
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At four in the morning, sleeplessness, moonlight, and cheesecake become the strange little ritual of a mind that refuses to power down.
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A hope for the day relief no longer comes with judgment, conditions, or the fear of losing everything she has fought for.
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Somewhere between therapy and the forest, smoke becomes a ritual for quiet, creativity, laughter, and returning to yourself.
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Other people will keep inventing versions of her; the page remains where she refuses to shrink herself to fit any of them.
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Love ruins poetry in the best way when one person begins haunting every metaphor, every page, and every unwritten name.
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A tender confession about carrying someone like a protected secret and wondering what they would do if they knew.
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Healing is not forgetting the past—it is learning to love the version of yourself who survived it and kept choosing tomorrow.
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A mother finally learns the medical name behind her daughter’s loss—and begins laying down guilt that was never hers to carry.
Between Bruises & Blooms 