Cracked.

I can’t speak the words I need to say,

So I write them down, hoping they will stay.

Every letter is a prayer, a wish to be seen,

The lines blurred in ink, each one deep and keen.

You can’t fix the cracks, but they’re part of the whole,

A journey of words—this is how we grow.

*

I write them down, hoping they will stay—

I’m lost in the thought of who I might become one day,

Every letter is a prayer, a wish to be seen.

And yet, I can’t seem to find a way to say what I mean.

The cracks are there, but in them, I’ll find the whole,

Many misteps complies, but also… so many rooms to grow.

*

Though doubt often whispers louder than the words I say,

The process itself makes me feel whole.

*

In time, I might truly feel what it means to be whole….

How to let my heart speak all that I mean.

For now, I’ll try to find the courage to say,

To trust my heart deserves to be seen.

*

I write and rewrite, hoping it will stay…..

Hoping that each imperfect line will make me whole.

Someday, I’ll trust these lines to be seen,

And let them say what I cannot say.

*

In cracks, we grow, and words will stay—

A broken soul is still whole-

cracked and all.

We will find our way.