Is that rain I hear?
or the sound of me
waiting without reaching
I notice how carefully
I am holding myself
as if something fragile is near
some days I feel steady
other days I count silences
and pretend I am not
I do not know what this will become
and that is the part
that keeps me awake
I move through the days anyway
doing what needs doing
carrying the not-knowing with me
if this is rain
I will not rush for shelter
if this is nothing…
Because no matter how carefully I arrange the furniture of my independence, someone else always holds the key.
I believe in love. Not the easy kind, but the brave kind. The kind that asks us to risk disappointment and remain open anyway.
A poem written in my late teens about captivity, fear, and survival. Years later, it revealed a meaning I could never have imagined when I first wrote it.
We all build walls for a reason. The Fortress is a reflection on resilience, healing, and the moment we find the courage to step beyond them once more.
We are all shaped by stories – those we inherit, those we tell, and those we are still learning to understand. Read Me is an invitation to consider the experiences, memories, and histories that sit beneath the method.
I unpack the years, the loves, the losses, and tuck them away in cupboards and corners.