Poem: Rebuilding Me

I am the dust and I am the flame,
A thousand pieces with no name.
I broke, I bled, I lost my way—
But even ruins learn to stay.

No longer made of glass and thread,
I rise from words I never said.
Each shard, a story, sharp and true,
Each scar, a path I walked through you.

I do not wish for who I was,
That version cracked without a cause.
I’m laying bricks with gentler hands,
No need to beg the world to stand.

I’m softer now, and stronger too—
I bend like trees in storms I knew.
Not every wound has stitched up clean,
But still, I walk. I still believe.

I build with silence, build with screams,
With broken sleep and buried dreams.
With morning light and tear-stained nights,
With bitter ends and small delights.

There is no map, no guarantee,
Just breath, and fire, and will in me.
So here I stand, not who I was—
But someone growing, just because.

I’m not yet whole, but I am free—
And every step rebuilds this me.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie