poetry blog
-
Between shadow and soul, bruises, grief, cigarettes, rescue, and blooming all belong to the same map of becoming.
-
The page went quiet because healing asked for rest, but the words never left—they were only waiting for tomorrow.
-
Some days the poems wait while bottles, laundry, little hands, and ordinary motherhood take the whole page.
-
One poem became pages, collections, and finally a home where every grieving, healing, loving, surviving version of her could belong.
Between Bruises & Blooms 