Under skies where umbrage is stitched with thoughts, I ponder, on the days, like copper, reticence is bent when voices, hushed, rise and take their place,
with colors sharp as blades, of stories then that crashed against the wall of silence.

Muted. Muted. Muted for so long.
This voice, a titan, bones crumpled in fetal position and slid into a box has been gagged for so long. The body now unfurls, a sapling having been denied of its spring for too long.

And I’m waiting for the day when I can keep my head up, when I can speak up and say my peace, say my piece.

And I’m waiting for the day, no longer I, a sunflower with shoulders hunched, head bowed, lips crimped, wilting under the star I’ve always loved, basking in the warmth and letting the shadow fall behind me, am afraid of parading the reflection the mirror holds for me. When rights are not hoisted as hopeful words scrawled on cardboard for no eyes to see.

No longer hidden, walk with neither shackles or shame, unapologetic without otherness and doubt, to stand tall, shedding the cloak of unseen, burst into darkness like new born light for everyone to see.

Under the crushing weight of novelty, head stuffed inside a crown for the surd, Humanity watered down until it turns into a pulp of flesh, no more. No more, I say.

Pay me no nods, nor embrace, nor tokens, but vows that we would dine at a table and see the beauty of existence in your eyes, take comfort in your smile, and speak my mind as you freely could, when you get out of line. If you don’t know, feel free to unbuckle my shoes, fill them, take root in them, walk miles in them, get spat in them, get persecuted without a reason in them, take a number, stand in line, keep your mouth shut in them, go home in them, if there are holes, feel the burn of friction, weep, weep, weep and be laughed at, be told what you feel is not real in them. Maybe yearn for a word or two and let somebody, anybody know you are crumbling into them, like a cinderblock too weak to cradle fire any further in them?

Maybe only then, that in them, you’ll take my callused hand to sand yours, and we'll find the stars that guide us home to peace, and in that space, our voices intertwine, the beating of hearts are in synch, with heads held high.

Let me, in confidence, be worthy of the space I claim and of equal measure know what it’s like to live free and not keep waiting for the day.

I was once the calm before the storm,
Soft-spoken, eager to please.
I bent and bowed to every demand,
Hoping for some small reprieve.

I was the sun behind the clouds,
A gentle light to guide.
But you saw me as weak, as nothing at all—
Just someone you could bide.

You shaped me with your empty words,
Your lies, your games, your hate.
You laughed as I stumbled and fell,
Thinking I’d accept my fate.

I silenced my voice to soothe your pride,
I smiled through all your games.
I stitched my wounds with fragile hope,
Yet you fed them with your flames.

But storms don’t stay quiet forever,
And wounds don’t heal by chance.
I picked myself up from the wreck you made,
And now I rise, not dance.




I did not create the storm—
I simply became it.
I did not leave it all to chance,
Though that's what you named it.

You called me fragile, weak, a pawn,
A shadow beneath your rule.
But every whisper, every slight—
You fed the fire of a fool.

And now the fool stands cloaked in rage,
Her fury sharp and wild.
You played your games, you stacked your cards,
But you forgot—storms have a child.




You’ll taste the ruin you left behind,
Feel the wreckage you thought was mine.
Each word you spoke to tear me down
Will now burn through your spine.

I am the echo of all you’ve done,
The screams you tried to drown.
The wrecking wind, the searing rain—
I’ll bring it all crashing down.

You’ll hear my name in the howling winds,
Feel my wrath in the quake.
You stole my peace, you shattered my soul
Now the storm is wide awake.


No mercy will I leave in my path,
No corner safe to hide.
Each piece of your fragile world will fall—
I’ll rip it from inside.


Your lies will hang like broken glass,
Cutting through your pride.
And every tear you tried to deny,
Will flood you like the tide.

A reckoning is coming, dear,
You’ll beg for the pain to end.
But this isn’t justice—it’s destruction’s kiss,
A storm you cannot mend.

You’ll know the torment you inflicted,
Feel the cold blade of regret.
For every wound you carved in me,
I’ll leave your soul in debt.


Let your castles crumble, your masks dissolve,
Let chaos reign supreme.
I’ll unravel your world brick by brick
Your life will be my dream.

And when the storm has taken all,
When nothing of you remains,
You’ll finally see the power you gave
To the storm born of your games.

I broke the leash—
felt it snap between my teeth,
the metal biting deep into my skin,
but its absence leaves a weight
heavy on my heart,
as though I’ve lost a limb.
Still, I carry it.
Every step feels like I’m betraying
the creature I was meant to be,
but I move anyway.

Your collar is gone,
but its echo tightens my chest,
a phantom pressure,
reminding me that I was born
to seek your approval,
to obey your every call.
I run,
but every breath tastes of you,
your presence clinging to me
like smoke I can’t escape.

Your voice gnaws at my spine,
low and sharp,
its growl imprinted in my bones.
I feel you in every shadow,
in every gust of wind,
like a leash invisible but real.
I push forward,
but the past scratches at my heels,
its claws deep in my skin.

Still, I run—
not without cost,
but I claw forward,
defying every instinct bred into me.
Your shadow pulls at my heart,
but I do not stop.
The path is not easy,
but every step is a battle
I am learning to win.

And though you haunt me—
your name, your scent,
the chains of my past—
I know this:
I have broken free.
No collar, no leash,
no chains will hold me again.
I am no longer your dog.

Leaves like strings it sounds
Alone wolf all we hounds,
when earth shakes and trembles
strong wind nimbles and wistles.

On day like Feast we mourn
Our hearts are scourge and torn,
Its hard to find a way
When the tears rain and stay.

today we dig a hole and burry
forever in our hearts we carry,
a loving hand of yours are rare
all memories shared are bare.

Help us stand again,
From this weary and broken pain,
With your hand to guide us through,
We'll rise again, strong and anew.

A thick thread
of never-ending
cruelness,
its toxicity running
so deep
it contaminates
anyone
it can wrap itself
around
until I discovered
how to cut
myself
loose.






Copyright © 2025 Alyssa Rondeau
All Rights Reserved

Stay close dear soul, in this tempest’s gale,
Where shadows threaten to unravel and assail.
Don’t walk away, for within our shared breath,
Lies the tether that keeps us from the edge of death.
When separation looms, life turns grey,
A canvas devoid of hues, where dreams sway.
No longer peaceful, but dark as the night,
The stars obscured, hopes fragile light.
Unbalanced and unhinged, thoughts collide,
A maelstrom within, where sanity hides.
Yet fear not, for within chaos, strength is found,
And clarity emerges from the tempest’s sound.
Manipulate yourself, weave threads anew,
Craft resilience from fragments, bold and true.
Regain control, as a captain taming the sea,
Steering through storms towards serenity.
This tempest, fierce and wild, shall let loose its hold,
Releasing you from chains, stories untold.
And winds subside, and skies unfold,
Know that within your spirit, courage takes hold.

Some may think of the heart, metaphorically speaking, as if it were an ornament or a piece of colored glass. Too fragile to expose, they live in fear, never knowing the nature or the value of this gift that's been bestowed.

In childhood, our hearts are made of purest gold, so precious. They begin to take on layers through our experiences of love:  Our families, those closest to us. Over time, the layers grow, though some may wilt and fall away. We find refuge in the layers that remain just underneath.

No, this heart is not made of glass, nor will it break into pieces. I see it ever as a flower that blooms over the passing years, petals forming, falling, loves encountered, those lost. The heart is the beauty of a memory that lies dormant, only to grow again. A seed .. Newly planted, to await the coming Spring.

💡LightInDarkness 🌑 ©JFO👥2024

Friend, you seem to be in great Despair
You probably are in need of gentle care.
Great sorrows, alone you bear.
Hiding it from me isn't fair.
With me, your problems, you can share,
Oh dear, for you, I'll always be there

Boxes became my constant companions,
each house a temporary heartbeat.
I built homes with one hand holding a child,
the other gripping resilience.