I have always admired the power of poetry—the way it captures emotions too raw for prose and paints pictures too vivid for explanation. Yet, I’ve often hesitated to write it myself. Poetry felt like an art form for those trained in its intricacies, something I wasn’t sure I could do justice. But if life has taught me anything, it’s that growth comes from stepping into the unfamiliar, embracing mistakes, and simply allowing myself to try.

Right now, my heart is in a place unlike any I’ve known before—beautiful, yet tender; raw, yet overflowing with love. It feels like standing at the edge of a transformation, a shedding of the old to embrace the new. As I reflected on my journey—the battles fought, the shadows faced, and the light that finally began to break through—I was reminded of Tool’s song 46 & 2 .

That song has always meant so much to me, not just for its haunting sound but for its profound message about shedding old skin, facing the shadow self, and stepping into growth and transformation. It resonates deeply with my own story. Inspired by its meaning and my love for the song, I decided to try something new: to share my journey through poetry.

I’ve learned to trust the process of creating only when I am led, and this piece comes from that place of inspiration. I don’t know how often I’ll write poetry, but today, my heart was moved to express itself this way. This is raw, it’s vulnerable, and it’s me—learning, growing, and sharing.

Shedding Skin, Forging Light

I stand,
on the battlefield of broken dreams,
where shadows once danced with whispers of defeat,
where the enemy’s claws dug deep,
marking me with scars of abandonment, pain, and lies.

But here I am.
Still.
Breathing.

Every tremor, every tear, every scream,
was a note in the symphony of my resurrection.
What the enemy wove to bury me,
I unraveled, strand by strand,
and spun into a thread of purpose,
a lifeline for the lost.

I faced the mirror,
saw the jagged fragments of “me,”
each one a reflection of survival,
a testament to the war within.
DID, they called it.
Multiple lives stitched into one body,
each shadow begging for light.

So, I shed.
Layer after layer,
I peeled back the skin of shame,
the armor of fear,
the mask of who I thought I was.
I faced my shadow.
And I found God there,
waiting in the wreckage,
saying, “Now, child, let’s rebuild.”

This skin—this new life,
is not without its cracks.
But every step,
every choice to rise,
is a strike at the enemy’s throat.
Every testimony,
a weapon forged in fire,
sharpened by hope.

Now, I walk,
not as the wounded,
but as the warrior,
every scar a map of victory.
I use what was meant to kill me
to breathe life into others,
to shine light into the darkest corners,
to whisper into shattered souls:
You are not alone.

The shadows will come.
They always do.
But I am no longer afraid to face them.
I know how to wield my pain,
to cut through the lies.
I am shedding skin.
I am peeling back.
I am creating life,
a new foundation of strength,
brick by brick, testimony by testimony.

What once hurt me
now blesses others.
And what the enemy sought to destroy,
God has turned into my revenge,
a song of hope sung through the cracks.

So I step forward,
46 and 2 steps closer,
to the freedom I was always meant to find.