The Place Where I Begin Again

My roots know the truth of me

the quiet parts,

the bruised parts,

the pieces I hide from the world.

They remember every goodbye,

every small victory,

every moment I chose to rise

when falling felt easier.

They are my anchor,

pulling me back to myself

when life tries to scatter me

like dust in the wind.

But my branches—

they are brave wanderers.

They dream beyond the horizon,

stretching toward light

they have never touched before.

They carry the weight of my hope,

my hunger for change,

my belief that I can grow

into something gentler,

something stronger,

something new.

Between these two forces,

I relearn who I am.

I stand rooted in what made me

and reaching for what I can become.

Every day, I grow a little more—

down into memory,

up into possibility.

I am the tree

that survives the storm

and still reaches for the sky.