Therapy Bits

I have carried pain like a lantern—
its flame flickering wild in my chest,
lighting the edges of everything I lost.

At first, I tried to hide it,
to bury its heat beneath quiet smiles,
but fire does not forget its nature.

So I began to listen to its crackle,
to shape its smoke into meaning—
each scar a syllable, each tear a seed.

And slowly, the hurt began to transform,
turning wounds into windows,
grief into ground where I could grow.

Now, I walk with my pain beside me—
not as a ghost, but as a guide,
teaching me the alchemy of becoming.

For even ashes, when held with intention,
can whisper: you are still here—
and that, too, is purpose.

Transform – Word of the Day Challenge