I am darkness and light, midnight and dawn, the hush before singing, the ache carrying on. I am beauty and ugly, polished and raw, the crack in the mirror that remembers what it saw. I am peace in my breathing, complex in my mind, lost in the moment, yet strangely aligned. I am powerful, soft, iron wrapped in lace, a fire that warms a caress on your face. I am hard when I must be, fragile when safe, a storm learning stillness, a risk learning faith. I am confusion that circle

Last night felt like a quiet gift. Not loud.   Not dramatic.   Just real. I spent time with new friends, the kind of people who don’t rush you, don’t size you up, don’t ask you to be shinier or smaller or better behaved. The kind who simply open the door and say, come in. They love animals in the purest way. They take in strays, not to train them, not to fix them, not to make them perform or behave for approval. They feed them. Keep them warm. Let them rest. Let them be exact

I wore a crown made outta tin foil, Thought it shimmered in the sun, Let men call me “baby” first message coil Like we’d already become one . They’d say, “You’re different, you’re special,” Then disappear for a week, I’d say, “He’s busy, he’s processing,” Girl, I was tired , not deep. I dated grandpas and little boys, Same story, different jeans, One showed abs like a résumé, One showed stocks and gambling dreams. Naked photos, unsolicited Sir, this ain’t a museum tour, If co

This is not a poem about blame. It is a remembering. A remembering of the moment I realized that love was never meant to cost me myself. That devotion without discernment becomes disappearance. That the role of the good one, the strong one, the endlessly understanding one  was never holiness — it was survival dressed in grace. This piece is a goodbye to the version of me who mistook endurance for virtueand a welcome to the woman who no longer bargains for belonging. What foll

That collective emptiness that follows the holiday rush! January always arrives softly. After the rush. After the noise. After the effort of holding joy, holding grief, holding togetherness, sometimes all at once. We return to routine. Back to school. Back to work. Back to the familiar scaffolding of our days. And there is  comfort there. Routine steadies us. It tells the body where it is, where it’s going, and what is expected. It gives shape to time again. And yet, there is

This year, I learned a thing or two like how to stop explaining me  to you. How “no” can love me more than " yes" , and peace beats stressed, and over-nice. I learned that chasing isn’t fate, it’s exhaustion showing up too late. That what I need is always near no silent wishing for what’s not here. I learned rest is not retreat, it’s wisdom pulling up a seat. That stillness doesn’t stall the climb; it gently says, “Move, on time.” So this new year, I’m travelling light. No

Poetic Reflections No Rock Today I woke expecting something to climb, a hill, a task, a reason, a sign. My hands were ready, my shoulders tight, prepared to prove I could still fight. But the morning whispered, not today , there is no rock to push your way. No mountain waiting for your might, no badge for effort, no wrong to right. And oh, the ache—that restless hum, the fear that says, If I’m still, I’m none. I saw it then, with gentle eyes: my worth once lived in uphill tri

Some lessons arrive softly. Others leave marks before they leave wisdom. I’ve learned that superficial bruises fade. Skin heals. Bone mends. But the cost of self-betrayal lingers far longer than any visible wound. I will not be a slave to anyone. Money is a tool never a justification for injury, disrespect, or abuse. No job, no role, no promise of security is worth the quiet erosion of one’s self. One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is this: loyalty must begin with

My sister died after a long illness on December 8, 2025, just hours from her 65th Birthday! The following were born as I navigated the pain. Two Shadows, One Heart I grieve for you,  your tired feet on roads too long, your hands forever fixing what the world kept breaking, your hope stretched thin across years of quiet ache. But I grieve for me, too for the woman I once was, the one who carried storms alone, who fought for love in barren soil, who believed survival was a virt

There is a quiet kind of hurt that doesn’t come from cruelty, but from dismissal. Not being attacked. Not being argued with. Simply… not being seen. Recently, I shared a piece of my inner world, my way of seeing life, my hard-earned belief in light after knowing darkness. I offered it openly, without armour. What came back wasn’t anger. It was something more subtle but cut just as sharply: It was condescension disguised as realism. "You read too many fairy tales.” "Life does

This morning, the air is cool. Not uncomfortable just cool enough to be noticed as it touches my skin, my feet, my neck. The house is still quiet. Not empty. Not lonely. Just resting. Christmas often arrives carrying promises excitement, joy, peace. But those things don’t always arrive all at once, and they don’t always look the way we imagined. Sometimes they arrive quietly, in the noticing. This morning, I breathe in what is here. The calm. The gentle peace of a moment that

This reflection isn’t about any one person. It’s about discovering who I am through the way I connect —learning to love myself better in the moments between messages. Every relationship and friendship in my life has helped me grow, and I write these words with gratitude for the hearts who have walked beside me along the way. 🤍 I used to think texting was simply a way to stay connected —tiny blue bubbles carrying quick words from one heart to another. But then I realized… Tho

The preparations for the holiday season have begun. You can almost feel it humming — the city dressed in lights, the air crisp with the promise of Christmas, and the collective excitement rising like a soft glow from every decorated window. Last night the parade wound its way through the streets. Even with the cold settling deep into our coats, the excitement was palpable, the kind that reminds you that wonder is still alive in this world. At home, Aunt J climbed the stairs t

There are moments in life when the world slows down just enough for us to truly see another human being. Not their mask, not their brave face, not their carefully held-together edges but their tender, aching, overwhelmed truth. On Friday, I found myself in one of those moments. A new friend from school reached a breaking point. Life, stress, and emotions she’d been carrying quietly finally spilled over. I could feel her pain not because it triggered my own (the way it once

Just when I think my healing is complete, I watch myself do it again—the over-explaining, the pushing, the reaching out too soon after I’ve already spoken my truth. I tell myself I’m just being honest, that I’m clarifying how I feel. But underneath it all is that old, familiar ache: a desperate cry to be acknowledged, heard, and seen. A silent plea of, "Please, don't abandon me." It’s self-sabotage, disguised as transparency. And it’s taken me years to see that this pattern i

The art of “being” is one of practice one that calls for constant awareness, compassion, and gentle persistence. Healing is not a single event; it’s a lifelong dialogue with the self. Even the wounds that have long since closed still whisper their old stories. They murmur, You can’t do that. You’re not enough. You don’t deserve this. You have to earn love, earn rest, earn belonging. Those voices don’t roar anymore, but they still echo faintly in the spaces between my breaths.

It happens in a whisper. One moment, I was innocent and carefree. The next, I was divorced, holding a beautiful child in my arms,...

Indeed, my darkness was unique to me, just as yours is to you. It was seen, felt, and lived through me. And yet, the concept of darkness...

What a beautiful world it would be if we all treated each other as if we were gods. Not in the ego-driven sense of power-hungry or...

Healing is a journey, a gentle, winding path that invites us to walk at our own pace, to breathe deeply, and to find peace within...