Still, I Believe
Hope is not believing that love will never hurt us again. It is choosing to remain open, even after it has.
Hope is not believing that love will never hurt us again. It is choosing to remain open, even after it has.
A poem about what remains after certainty falls away – and the quiet decision to stay open, stay in relationship, and choose love anyway.
My strongest childhood memories are not of places but of Sunday lunches: paprika-scented kitchens, opera drifting through open windows, and my father’s stories unfolding around the table.
Sometimes the most important intervention is not a medication or a procedure, but belief. This story reflects on illness, autonomy, and the GP who listened when others would not.
This poem was written as part of my Master’s thesis, Who’s Health Matters? It captures the essence of the chapter titled Summer and reflects themes of transition, hope, belonging, and the search for home.
Sometimes the safest way to survive is not to be seen. A story of migration, belonging, and the strategies we develop to protect ourselves.
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 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.
We were supposed to be going camping in Austria. Instead, we got lost on the way home. A story of family, migration, and the journey that brought us to Aotearoa New Zealand.
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.