Resilient no. 2

But then the tightness begins to loosen

with every day, subtly. Slowly.

A smile becomes fuller,

for all types of love

come and fill my heart again:

My grandmother, a good run.

The ocean, my happy cousins.

With each new day and sun

I begin to remember the good.

Because knowing that this thing finally 

gets shined on, burns, and dies,

renews and grows

and you survive

is enough.


Let me take you to my garden.

Let me take you to where I bloom.

Where my little patch of earth

of ocean and mountains, bright in hue,

can sing a song in the light of the moon.

Whether day, whether night,

it is where you’ll find me,

kept safe in loving, helpful harmony.

Please know that there is more

than what you’ve seen—


In your garden, I became a wallflower.

But in mine, you consumed the wildflowers.

Resilient no. 1

It gets easier.

The days grow slowly

from their shadows

and light begins to

touch your heart again.

The flowers spring

beneath your feet,

and instead of wondering

why you weren’t enough,

you begin to realize

that you are more

than how the darkness

made you feel.

You are brighter,

sturdier, more human.

You can choose,

and you choose light,

for you are as beautiful as the moon

reflecting the sun,


Even in the darkness.