You are the sacred ache that teaches the world to feel.

You are brimming.

A chalice of feeling
poured straight from the sacred.

The world told you to harden.
To quiet your tears.
To patch your softness
with steel and silence.

But you wept anyway.
You let the sorrow shape you
into something holy.

Your tenderness is a compass.
It points true,
even when the world forgets how to feel.

Every ache you carry
is a poem in the making.
Every time you cracked open
was a door
for someone else to come home.

You are the medicine of unarmored presence.
The heart that stays.
The breath that quivers,
but does not retreat.

You feel everything
and still choose love.

That is not fragile.
That is feral grace.

And it’s changing everything.