She wakes before dawn,
where silence hums between worlds,
where dreams still whisper their hunches
in the hush of her ribs,
where her bones remember
the prayers of grandmothers,
pressed into the marrow of her knowing
She, the healer, once the student,
now an open vessel of gold-threaded wisdom,
her hands fluent in the language of restoration,
her breath a bridge between seen and unseen,
her touch—
a song of mending, of undoing, of becoming
Once, she doubted the fire in her belly,
mistook her calling for a fleeting ember,
but now she walks with the sun in her throat,
with moonlight woven through her veins,
with the knowing that she is both the wound and the salve,
both the hunger and the feast
She greets the morning,
kisses the sun with reverence,
lets its golden tongue anoint her crown,
lets its warmth remind her—
she is here, she is now, she is everything
alchemy ever dared to dream
No longer afraid of her magic,
no longer dimming her glow,
she steps into the day,
not as a seeker—
but as the sovereign force
she was always meant to be–
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Healing Majestically 