Why I write.

i sing

my song

of hope

to the world.

a sweet

lullaby

for

the broken ones.

shhhh.

listen.

your healing

is coming.

—why i write.

On raising a boy.

I rub

gentleness

into your skin

every day,

so that the one

who loves you

one day,

does not have

to peel back

the layers,

to find your heart.

—On raising a boy.

Break the chains.

every woman

who heals

herself,

heals her

children’s

children.

—Break the chains.

Walk a mile.

I was going to

tell

you

how to walk

this road,

but then I found

that

your shoes

didn’t fit

me.

—Walk a mile.

Raw.

With every

word

that I write,

I remove

another

layer of skin.

One day,

I shall

find myself

again.

—Raw.

Not enough.

You say that I am nothing

special.

Not beautiful,

enough.

Not thin,

enough.

Not popular,

enough.

Not,

enough.

But,

see how I can turn

my pain

into flowers;

fragrant.

An offering

for all the others;

not enough.

—Not Enough.