Poems that give you permission to breathe.

Today was a fist. But you unclenched it, finger by finger, and found tomorrow still sitting in your palm.

You don't have to earn rest. The trees don't apologize for shedding in autumn. Let go of something today. See how light you feel.

Healing isn't linear. Some days the body leads, some days the heart. But every day you're closer to the version of you that laughs again.

Your anxiety is a smoke alarm in a house that isn't burning. Thank it for its vigilance. Then open a window and let the air remind you: you're safe.

The years have changed the color of your hair but not the way you lean into the rain, as if the weather were a kind of prayer and every drop a chance to start again.