A poem about emotional adaptation, inherited silence, and the cost of learning to survive by disappearing into yourself.

They say therapy is about healing. But for many of us, it starts with being seen— Before we even know how to name what we’re carrying.

Some emotions do not begin with us. They arrive before language—felt in the body, passed down through blood, held in silence. To feel is not to fail. To feel is to remember, and to remember is to reclaim.

Sometimes we are taught to manage emotions, but not to understand or express them. "The Wheel Is How I Feel"  is a spoken word piece...

Stillness is often mistaken for weakness. But there is a kind of quiet forged by generations of survival, resilience, and fierce...

"I am not what the world made—I am what the fire refused to break." This is not a story of survival by grace. It is survival by fire....

I lean in — steady, deliberate, like an offering — not to catch you, not to hold steady, but to witness the exact moment your voice dares...

A poem in the voice of Nigredo — the first stage of transformation. Not a fall, but the necessary collapse before anything true can begin.

So now I walk the shifting sand, Not needing map or guiding hand. The sea still calls, but I am free Both salt and seed have made me—me.

Dreams don’t shatter like glass; they crumble like old paper, soft at the edges, fading where your fingers pressed too hard. The heart...

Conversations deep and light, Hold an art both calm and bright. A gentle touch, a subtle grace, That navigates through time and space....

An intimate reflection on living with vision in a world that often demands realism. Prologue: To Be a Dreamer Some people are born with...