Daughter of Wind and Quiet

I was not born into silence—

but I learned early how to hold it.

How to carry pain without spilling.

How to vanish parts of myself so others felt more whole.

They taught me how to be small.

I taught myself how to survive.

I do not write for applause.

I write because it keeps me alive.

Because truth withheld is a wound that deepens.

Because the stories they tried to erase are still breathing in my chest.

This space was not built to perform.

It was built to remember— to stitch something sacred from what remains.

To say: you were not wrong to feel this deeply.

To say: your voice belongs.

Even if it shakes.

Even if it’s never been heard before.