Words

Have you ever faced a moment that unraveled the fables of your youth? Those childhood chants meant to protect us— like “sticks and stones may break your bones…” But I’ve learned, painfully, that words bruise in ways the eye can’t see.

They don’t just land. They linger— settling into the softest parts of your soul, echoing in quiet rooms until you begin to question your own name, your purpose, your place.

Words can weigh more than iron and stone— they can crush with the force of fifty tons, without ever making a sound.

Yet as a writer, I wield them with reverence. I use them to bleed truth onto pages, to sketch hope into the shadows, to stir hearts awake.

There is magic in the marrow of language— a sacred power in every syllable. And in that power, we choose: to harm, to heal, to hold.