A Poem for the One Who Finally Chose Peace

I’ve learned to love myself enough
to step away from chaos
the way a queen steps away from crumbs—
with poise,
with grace,
with a gentle “Oh no, that’s not for me.”

I’ve learned that healing doesn’t always look holy;
Sometimes it looks like blocking a number
and then making tea.
Sometimes it looks like silence so loud
It startles your own spirit awake.
Sometimes it looks like standing tall
while someone else unravels on their own timeline—
and choosing not to shrink just to match their storm.

Forgiveness found me in the mirror one morning,
whispering,
“Baby, it was never you.
Stop blaming your heart for someone else’s leak.”
And I laughed—
a full, belly-deep laugh—
because suddenly life made sense:
Some people walk around
with emotional bandages held on by hope and half a prayer,
peeling them back just enough
to bleed on whoever’s closest.

And there I was,
trying to build an altar
while someone else was playing with matches.

So I stepped back—
not out of cruelty,
but out of self-respect,
because chaos is contagious
And peace is a luxury
I now give myself first.

I forgave my heart
for loving too hard.
I forgave my soul
for carrying chapters that weren’t mine.
I forgave myself
forever thinking I needed to stay
where my spirit kept whispering,
“We’re done here.”

And as I walked away—
head high, hips soft,
a little humor in my stride—
I blessed them with a simple,
“May peace and healing find you
in whatever season you finally stand still long enough
to receive it.”

Because real healing
isn’t loud,
isn’t dramatic, it
isn’t a spectacle.

It’s choosing quiet over chaos.
It’s choosing clarity over confusion.
It’s choosing yourself—
again,
again,
and again.

And if I stand a little taller these days,
If my smile has a bit more glow,
It’s because I finally understood:

Peace is sacred.
Distance is medicine.
And my healing?
My healing is mine—
timeless, tender,
and honestly…
long overdue–

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