Wild Embers: Poems of Rebellion, Fire, and Beauty

growth is a thing

of beauty

and of pain,

I had hoped one day to find someone

who loves my monsters,

the wolves that I feed,

the demons I sing to sleep

the tiger that is my caged heart

the parts of me I do not talk about

I prayed and wished and yearned

until I realised that I had already found her

One day, you will encounter a sea of tears and realise it is your own.

What I have spent

in mourning

is the price

I have paid

for my healing.

When you see your daughter falling into that trap the mirror has been creating for you and every woman before you: ‘Your nose is too long, look at that acne, you have strange eyes,’ a thousand flaws on one small form, pull her aside and remind her that mirrors aren’t a true reflection of the person you are on the inside.

You can strive to be perfect.

Or you can strive to be art.

You need not fear the wolves you hide in your soul. They were made not to hurt you, but to protect you against this world.

If you want to know the secret, if you want to know the truth, there is nothing more dangerous than a girl who is aware of the flames inside her, and all the damage she can do.

monster is simply your beautiful, broken mind, trying to convince you to let go. And when you finally face him, take the memory from his hands, understand that it was not your fault. This is how you will deal with it when chaos ever calls.

Because girls who were building empires for themselves did not need kingdoms to shine.