So much of my life has been spent surviving. Trudging through the days. Slogging through the struggles, praying to wake the next morning. On the dark nights, I hoped I wouldn’t wake at all.
That’s not to say I haven’t lived a blessed, joyous, privileged life. I have in many ways. But my story, for a long time, was punctuated with trauma and loss and depression and anxiety and the never-ending healing of so many childhood wounds.
But I can say now that I am at the end. I have come to the end of that life. While they may leave scars, wounds do heal. And mine have. To my great, and surprised, delight, so much of me has healed.
This is why I write. In the hard times, writing brought me back to life. In the times of ease, writing became a force of nature moving through me at such a speed that I cannot ignore.
Now, in this new era of peace, writing is my greatest expression of joy.
These letters are the paint I splatter as I dance, wild-haired, under the moon.
These words are the chimes of my laughter bubbling up from my womanly well.
May you enjoy your time here, with me. While some of my poems are sad, some of them silly, they are all human. And they are all Divine.