I.
Heat—flame starts between my shoulder blades,
spreading into wings that cinder and spark.
The bell of my soul rings,
awake.

II.
Arriving home to myself—
finding place because I made space for me,
built up from the ashes
of who I used to be—softly.

III.
Kindness is a choice, not a weakness—
a language the soul speaks
through wise eyes,
with no motive but healing—
to lessen what harm can be lessened,
and offer warmth instead of wounding.

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