When strength grows quiet
and the body moves with careful breath,
remember—
the light within you remains untouched.
Though illness unsettles the surface of your days,
it cannot trespass upon the luminous center
where your true self lives and shines.
Your hands once held the vessel whole—
smooth with years, unmarked by sorrow,
a simple offering of days.
But it slipped, and in a breath
was scattered—
pieces lying fragile and sharp
upon the ground of grief.
You gathered them, trembling,
yet could not restore what once had been.
And so the fragments remained—
not as they were,
but as something waiting to be remade.
There descends a great hush after the breaking—
when the earth lies colder than the heavens above,
and each breath is weighted with the sorrow of endings.
Behind you rest the shattered relics of what once was,
before you stretches a path draped in shadow,
and all seems surrendered to silence.
Yet even here, within the stillness of desolation,
strength begins its hidden labor.
You are wrought of oceans—
not of mere water,
but of the hush between waves,
of tides that rise to the call of unseen stars.
Within you, the salt of memory lingers—
not sorrow, but the sacred trace of becoming,
gathered grain by grain
in the cathedral of your silence.
Still, you shine.
Even in eclipse,
your depths cradle light
the way night cradles the moon.
![You Are Stronger Than This Moment [a poem]](https://i0.wp.com/healthinspiration.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/nature-with-clouds-parting-and-flowers.png?fit=1024%2C768&ssl=1&resize=40%2C40){kind=small}
![When the Broken Becomes Beautiful [a poem]](https://i0.wp.com/healthinspiration.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/pexels-photo-3041109.jpeg?fit=1200%2C764&ssl=1&resize=40%2C40){kind=small}
