Still I Rise Again

I have walked through the hush of goodbyes, where silence roared louder than grief, where memories clung like shadows, and love became a thief. I lost not just them, but parts of me— echoes of laughter, pieces of light. My soul wore mourning like a second skin, and daybreak blurred into night. I reached for hands that let me fall, poured love into a hollow shell, mistook a flicker for a flame, and kissed the lips of hell. Alone, I wept in secret shadows, ashamed of all I'd become. But even in the wreckage, life was quietly beating in my son. Heart shattered in quiet corners, where no one saw the tears, I raised a child with trembling strength, through sleepless nights and aching years. But oh—this boy, this sun, this star— he grew like wildflowers in the storm. His laughter rewrote my sorrow, his eyes held healing, his hugs my warmth. Through him, I met myself anew, not broken, but beautifully bruised— a woman shaped by fire and sky, no longer lost or used. I stitched my name with golden thread into the seams of each new dawn, and found my voice, my fire, my breath— not despite the dark, but drawn. No longer lost, no longer small, I stand with open grace— a woman who has met her soul and learned to love her face. Every kiss at morning’s light reminds me where I’ve been, and who I’ve found, and what I’ve earned Now joy runs barefoot through my days, and peace sits softly in my chest. I’ve made a home within my soul, and finally—I am at peace Finally, I rise again!