The soul is tender
It does not thrive on noise,
But on stillness that lets it breathe.
It does not ask for riches,
But for warmth,
For touch,
For the steady comfort of a hug
That says you are safe here.

The soul needs love
Not love dressed in conditions,
But love that listens,
That holds space,
That wraps us close when words are not enough.

It needs honesty
A place where truth is spoken
Without fear of rejection,
Where being real is enough.

It needs belonging
To walk this earth
Knowing we are not islands,
But threads woven
Into a greater tapestry.

It needs wonder
To look at stars
And feel small yet infinite,
To dance barefoot in the grass,
To remember that life is both fragile and miraculous.

And it needs growth
To stumble and rise again,
To be shaped by struggle,
To discover that even broken pieces
Can form something holy.

Most of all,
The soul needs to remember
It was never incomplete.
Every hug, every tear, every breath
All of it is proof:
The soul has always been whole.

©️ Dark Water Diaries

I always hated them--
how they left me behind the curtains,
worthless, unseen, forgotten

So when you told me
I was part of one,
shame flooded the courners of my soul

And yet, so did joy;
spreading like a warm fire.
Finally, a place where I belonged.

The world needs fixing
That much is true
But we can still make it heal
Let's just start with glue

Split it down the middle
Spew the venom 'round the side
It's not perfect, but it'll function
Maybe we're all a little broken inside

It is the open arms that we long for;
the bright lighting up of the eyes when we enter the room.
An old man can deny it, but the 5-year-old within still knows.
We want to be welcomed like a sunflower field,
or the sweet voice of a grandmother at the door.
The need to truly belong is a force in itself.
You see everything in life has an impact;
the power of love and the compulsion of hurt.
The open doors and the slammed ones,
the last words spoken and the welcoming's,
our heart never forgets them.
You were too weary for open arms,
and too hurt to truly shine.
Truths an old man can discern,
but a child
can only feel lost in the darkness of it all.
For it is the open arms that we long for;
the bright lighting up of the eyes when we enter the room.
An old man can deny it, but the 5-year-old within me still knows.

To feel the hum of skin—
a rhythm under flesh,
bleeding ears of melodies
louder than memory.

Flaws fall, resting like
skipped notes on the floor
of silence. I said,
"I’m not a song, not a chorus,
not a chorus, nor the neat refrain
someone can replay.

Yet these songs in my ears—
they take me in, to teach me
how to belong.

I’m not a song, but maybe a lyric—
unfinished, still searching for the
right line. Perhaps in due time, to the
metronome of my heart.

Sitting in my living room,
I want to go home.
Home, to where I belong.
To the oaks that give me shelter,
To the pines that know me well.

I can write this poem in minutes,
Share it with my close ones,
Pour my pain onto the page.
But I can’t be home right now.

Embracing sunlit valleys,
Walking on moss in enchanted forests,
Talking to the land that knows.
The simple life that costs so much.

Placeless
Perhaps impossible
But without place
Is how I feel
My feelings
A place
Inside a place
I am a place
My place
Where
Pause and
Placed hands
Pace and
Trace
An outline of
Home

the peasant girl
who once brought water
from the well
in cracked hands
has returned.
she didn’t mean to
leave her home behind —
it was just to escape
the silence between
what she needed
and would be never given.
she left with nothing
but a hunger for life,
so she started living,
and never apologised.

In this world where we all belong,  
Kindness is what makes us strong.  

A simple smile, a helping hand,  
Can spread joy across the land.

When words are gentle and actions are kind,  
Happiness we soon will find.  

With a caring heart, a listening ear,  
We make others feel valued, loved, and near.

It’s so easy to treat each person with respect,  
In love and kindness, we all connect.  

In every moment, big or small,  
Kindness is the greatest gift of all.