Flowers after the Storm [soft spoken pages]

Some days, she is fierce and can move mountains. She is unstoppable, climbing the unknown. With gentleness, descending slowly with confidence and pace. 

Yet some days, she is a storm bracing for waves that will push against her. Sailing a treacherous force that will pull her under, apprehensive to fight against those waves. 

Gentleness... is hope and hope allows her to stay still, and her body will flow to the tides. I surrender my body and mind-this soul to the movements I can not control. 

Eventually, I'd see the rays of warmth that is the sun and a land peeked with luminous floral patches with lush green fields. 

Butterflies Cry [poem]

 Some say the butterfly is joy.

A painted jewel that sunlight can employ.

To flutter lightly through the summer air,

with patterns lifted from a dream too rare.

~

They do not speak of sorrow, ache or strain;

They only tell of sunshine after rain.

~

But look more closely when the day is done.

When dewdrops settle on the lilac petals.

As velvet shadows steams the sun.

~

The butterfly its journey is done.

It folded its wings underneath the descending sun.

The meadow hums a hymn for what's become

Remembers love that ended or begun.

~

It's the dew of the deep and quiet grief.

A teardrop falling from a silken leaf.

A miniscule translucent silent spill.

A sorrow carried by a creature still.

"Joy can still take flight, but even wings of wonder sometimes weep."

This is my song, to my everlasting growth, and promise to keep to keep going. Just like the butterflies in shine or rain.

A sacred place [poem]

 I used to think it was four walls, and a window, a door...

But maybe it's a feeling.

A place that is safe, and abundant in love. 

What is such a feeling? If not a place?

Maybe it's in hope. The way I desire and dream. The only safe space, the place where I feel free, and in control. A place that is vivid and seen. Just like the trees, and the wildflowers. Where the foxes run free across the dandelion, and daisy fields.

The sky is bright blue endless, and wide.

The clouds are scarce, but plenty.

I can see blue, clear lakes flowing against the stones, with endless sand stretching between the shores. Little crabs are building nests beneath larger stones.

What a joy to see it all, like a summer's cabin peacefully out in the middle of the mountains perhaps that is the sacred place.

Ode to the Moonlit Self 🌙 [soft spoken pages]

You shouldn't have to apologize for how your life is, because that's the way the cards are dealt to you. And still, I rise with the stars, making the most of the hand I’ve been given.

⋆⊱༻𖥸༺⊰⋆

What does matter is the pace you keep, that is still courage.

I remind myself that courage isn't always these dramatic acts of acrobats, for it is just often waking up to hydrate, get started in your day, pay your bills/rent etc.

Getting into where this is going? 🌌

I am like the majority of people that exist in this lifetime, that just wants to find their person. To continue to grow within oneself, to set firmer boundaries, to avoid problematic people. Maybe find new friendly faces, those long-term friendships in addition to my garden of flowers 🌼

Loneliness doesn’t mean I’m alone; it simply means I respect the boundaries of those I care about.

This feeling just calls for patience, self-love, and persistence, embracing gentleness in seeking new connections or rekindling the ones I’ve had within myself. It’s not easy to believe I’m worth more than I already think I am. I’ve tried so many times to put myself out there.

Many people are open about their pain, isolation, or sadness. Meanwhile, I keep mine private, sharing what I go through only with a trusted few. Maybe sometimes, I too will isolate, because I overwhelm myself.

I will always be enough.

I know myself...

I am loving, giving, attentive.

I am paragraphs, I love to share, I remember your favorite things.

I understand in this life, that some people are not meant to stay in your life. My unhappiness will always be consistent so long as I kept people in my life that reminded me that I was trying too hard. If we are to struggle in life, let it only be the things we cannot control... but our social circles? We can control those. When you get my age, you grow intolerance to unnecessary things.

Sharing even the tough stuff is an important part of any relationship. It can help you grow closer, build understanding, and set clear boundaries. Unfortunately, in the past, the people I dealt with often created unsafe spaces, dismissed me as overly sensitive, or made me feel like it was all just in my head.Yet, when they had a problem, I had no choice but to do the usual thing-listen and nurture their spaces. As you can see, these are not safe spaces, and that’s why recognizing your self-worth and identifying problematic people is so important.

In conclusion,

I’m grateful for the friendships I’ve cherished for years and for the close friends who understand my deepest struggles.

I like to form new bonds by getting to know someone at a slow, steady pace and seeing where it naturally leads. Whatever stays will stay—either way is fine with me. I don’t want anything that’s not meant for me to be forced to remain.

"Maybe you don't need more time to heal, maybe you need more experiences that show your nervous system a different reality."

I Wait in the Soft Hours [poem]

 I count the quiet hours new and old and look occasionally to my inbox. 

It's your moment to unfold,

moments unravelling, such a detox.

I know you're there pulling up the pieces.

Sometimes the words are heavy, a jagged edge.

Like thinking up a meaningful thesis.

Safety is the only thing to look for,

may you find that space with opened doors.

I will not knock or demand a reply,

I won't ask you to match my step or pace.

Just know my anchor waiting for you, says I...

holding down our usual space.

Take all the winters that you're spirt needs. To heal the bruises, that the world put there.

I'll always be here waiting in the open air.