R e s i l i e n c e
She Rises Anyway
She bends but she does not break
Storm-kissed branches still awake.
Bruised by winds that tore her skin,
She roots herself and grows again.
She learns the rhythm of the pain,
Lets the thunder shake her frame,
Then wrings the rain out of her clothes,
And walks on lighter than she knows.
She’s not made of fragile glass
She is forged from fire and past,
Built from every “not this time,”
Hand-carved by life and redesigned.
So mark her down ~ she may fall low,
But watch her breath begin to glow:
Again she stands, and softly says,
…“I rise. I live. I try. Always.”
