10/04/2024
“Lost, But Found” acrylic on 24x36 stretched canvas
There’s a weight on my back,
Not the kind you can see,
But a burden shaped by hands,
By voices that need me, want me,
Pulling, always pulling—
And I can’t say no,
Can’t find the air to breathe my own name,
Can’t remember when my hands were mine,
And not a cup for someone else’s thirst.
But here—
In this golden field of silence,
Where the wind hums its song
And the sky stretches like a quilt
Sewn by the hands of peace,
Here, I remember.
A butterfly floats,
A crown on the petal of a purple bloom,
Soft like the dreams I’ve buried,
Delicate like the freedom I crave.
And I am still.
For the first time, I am still.
No hands pulling, no voices calling—
Just the whisper of the earth
Telling me I am enough.
I am whole.
Here, I am more than the need that swirls around me,
More than the giver who’s forgotten to give to herself.
I’m the quiet storm that rises
From a sky that refuses to break.
I’m the roots that twist deep into the soil,
Holding fast when the world pulls hard.
I’m the woman who’s found her breath,
Lost in the beauty of her own becoming,
The woman who blooms when no one’s watching.
