new beginnings

My bones remember the earth’s slow pull, 

 how muscle stretches toward the sun, 

 how skin learns the language of scars 

 each mark, a small translation 

 between what was and what will be. 

My mind, once a straight-lined map, 

 now folds like origami 

 new patterns blooming 

 from corners I never thought to crease. 

 Ideas molt like feathers, 

 drifting, then landing as something truer. 

My heart - weeds of fear, flowers of joy, 

 roots tangled in yesterday’s rain. 

 Every storm teaches a rhythm: 

 to break, to bend, to bloom again. 

And somewhere deeper, 

 beneath thought, beyond pulse, 

 a quiet ember hums 

 not asking for answers, 

 only breath. 

Change is not the enemy, 

 but the mirror we grow toward. 

 Every cell, every thought, every ache 

 a whisper: 

 You are becoming. You are still becoming.