This poem offers a quiet invitation to honour the gentlest forms of change, the kind that doesn’t announce itself, but settles softly. It speaks to the body and mind in transition, reminding us that realignment doesn’t need to be forced or named. The language is tender and grounded, evoking small rituals tea, walks, windows as acts of quiet restoration. There’s a sense of trust in the natural rhythm of things, a reassurance that even the smallest pause can rebuild what feels scattered. In a world that often demands visible progress, this piece reminds us that the invisible work is no less vital. It’s a poem that breathes with you, not at you.
This poem offers a quiet invitation to honour the gentlest forms of change, the kind that doesn’t announce itself, but settles softly. It speaks to the body and mind in transition, reminding us that realignment doesn’t need to be forced or named. The language is tender and grounded, evoking small rituals tea, walks, windows as acts of quiet restoration. There’s a sense of trust in the natural rhythm of things, a reassurance that even the smallest pause can rebuild what feels scattered. In a world that often demands visible progress, this piece reminds us that the invisible work is no less vital. It’s a poem that breathes with you, not at you.