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They called it love— the ones who could not feel. The mother who needed a nurse more than a daughter. The father who mistook control for closeness. The lover who took and called it destiny. They said, stay close, but meant, stay small. They said, you’re mine, but meant, you’re never free. They fed on devotion and named it tenderness. They clipped the wings and blamed the wind. I learned to love by starving. To hope by bleeding. To stay when I should have flown. And even whe

Growth doesn’t ask for certificates. It asks for surrender. It begins in the trembling hands that whisper I can’t — and still move. It...

Forty-six. A number, yes. But more— a doorway. A threshold. I no longer measure myself by who stayed or who left, by what I lost, or how...

I fought with heaven, I bargained with earth, to bring you here, to breathe you alive. My womb was a battlefield, my body an altar, my...

We make our own magic! There are days when healing whispers soft like lilac-scented wind. And days when it breaks you open, with no...

You didn’t just fill a gap. You became the ground beneath my feet when I was too broken to stand. You held the work — not as a duty, but...

This is for someone very dear to me. She might recognize herself. Or maybe we all have someone like her. You weren’t just there . You ...

Once, there was a woman who held everything. The mornings. The backpacks. The tears. The invoices. She held dreams that weren’t hers....

— and the world rearranges itself around that truth — Dedicated to my friends, A. and D., for their courage to choose themselves....

The day my presence shattered the illusion There was no fight. No final storm. Just a room, warm with winter light— and the way it...

They came not with swords but with whispers. Not to your face, but to the space behind your back — where your shadow sleeps and your name...

(For when we leave the old behind and create something sacred) Prayer for Blooming May this space hold us gently, like a heart that does...

Letting go. There are goodbyes that break the sound barrier not with noise, but with silence. A silence that wraps around your ribs and...

Writing as a therapy. You walked through fire and held your heart together. You gathered fallen words and turned them into an altar. You...

The skin tastes like salt. You don’t. Not right away.  Not neatly.  Not like they told you in books that end well. You carry it.  At...

In my own light. Sometimes they won’t see it. Your light. Your truth. Your tenderness. They’ll be too busy. Too bitter. Too caught up in...

Dedicated to my ex-husband. Rising strong. He said I was too intense. Too emotional. Too fragile. Too much. But that wasn’t the truth. I...

Your calling comes quietly. I used to think a calling would come with a sign. A lightning bolt. A dream. A prophecy. Something big....

Your're just becoming! I am not healed. Not completely. Not clean and shining and whole all the time. Sometimes I still bleed. Sometimes...