Waters of Renewal

Waters run deep once the tears have settled,

revealing currents I could not yet name.

In choosing myself, I learned to breathe underwater,

to dive without fear of being caught—

to trust the ocean inside.

My inner child bore scars no one could heal but time.

Each heartbeat became a ripple,

teaching me that freedom calls in the silence between waves.

Healing isn’t a paved road but a winding river:

sometimes slow, sometimes fierce, always moving toward the light.

I found sanctuary in the stillness of my body,

a harbor where burdens could safely unload.

Beneath the golden blaze of the sun,

I measured how far I’d journeyed—from trembling roots

to reaching skyward with unshakable hope.

Earth gave me choice:

to play the symphony of fire and embers,

to strike chords of worth when doubt pinned my mind down.

With each sunrise, soil and root whispered comfort,

reminding me that abundance grows

only where we water our own seeds.

Author’s Reflection

Healing has its own rhythm: a tide that ebbs and flows. In rewriting this passage, I honed in on the paradox of strength found in surrender, and the way growth hides in both stillness and motion.

Consider exploring these prompts to deepen your own journey:

1. Recall a moment when choosing yourself felt like diving into unknown waters. What did you discover beneath the surface?

2. Where in your life have you built sanctuary—physical or emotional—where you can safely unload burdens?

3. Identify the “seeds” you’re watering today. How might they bloom into new forms of abundance tomorrow?

Each question invites reflection on personal transformation and reminds us that, like rivers, our stories are always finding their way to the open sea.

After the Tide

Waters swallow me whole once the last tear falls,

salt burning my lungs as I gasp for air—

no one’s hand to grip, no lifeline when I crash.

I plunge into my own darkness,

bones rattling like abandoned wreckage,

that scared child inside me screaming in echoes.

I wore my pain like a brand—

each scar a river etched across my skin—

freedom whispered through the cracks.

Healing wasn’t a straight line but jagged stone,

each step heavy with rusted memories,

my body the only cathedral I had left to worship.

In the stillness I unloaded my rage,

let every fractured piece drift away—

even broken reflections become something holy.

I turned my face to the sun’s raw glare,

felt embers ignite chords in my chest—

worth wasn’t given; it was forged in fire.

Soil clung to my hands, roots tangled around hope,

I planted new dreams in that dirt,

watered them with sweat, grit, and unruly grace.

Now blooms rise where ashes once lay,

and every petal trembles with gratitude—

I am alive, raw and unashamed.

Digging Deeper

• Recall a moment when you hit rock bottom alone.

• Write it down.

• What did your inner child need to hear?

• Write it down.

• Where in your body do you still carry scars, visible or invisible?

• Write them down.

• What seeds of hope are you ready to plant today, even if the ground feels harsh?

• Write them down.

• How can you let your own fire forge a future you didn’t think possible?

• Write it down.

These prompts invite you to lean in and rest onto the page as long as you need to.

Set your soul completely free from any expectations at this very moment in time.

Taking the time and writing in your life can help you to witness your own fierce rebirth right before your very own eyes.