Poem 01: Bearing Witness
Gratitude to all the women I have been
I haven’t written a poem in years. I [also] haven’t read to you all in a long time. However, I’m starting something new to get back into my poetry writing and creativity flow. For those who didn’t know, poetry was my entry point in the literary world when I started my career as a writer 12 years ago. My hope is to share a poem a month rooted in gratitude, self-love, and the reclamation of joy. I hope you enjoy the pieces that I choose to share here.
Listen to me read Poem 01: Bearing Witness below.
The woman I am today
honors and respects
all the women I have been—
the girl with a voice tucked
too deep to hear,
the woman who wore silence for so long
like a cloak,
hoping no one would notice
her absence.
I spent years
curled within myself,
a seed in the shadow of fear,
longing for permission to
unfurl.
The woman I am today
stands tall. Her roots deep in
the earth of her becoming.
Her blooming isn’t always visible,
but it’s happening.
She knows now
her voice is:
A hymn. A declaration. A lifeline.
To be on the other side—
to see the world not from
the corner of folded dreams,
but through the full expanse of spirit.
This is the gift.
A reclamation. A resurrection. A reincarnation. A reason to keep on being.
The woman I am today
declares to the women I have been:
I see you. I thank you. I welcome you.
Every wound, every win, every whisper.
Every unspoken truth is a step back home. Thank you for coming to my door.
You are the roots of my resilience—
the quiet riot that led me back to the
threshold of my own soul.
Dear Self, you are an uprising. I carry you with me in both hands.
Looking closely at cupped palms with curiosity.
There’s courage and fear.
There’s hurt and healing.
There’s possibility for everything
to exist without contention.
I belong in my own hands.
I am bearing witness to the entirety of my joy—
without approval.
External validation was never the currency I needed to get back in my body.
I cradle all parts of me—
the messy, the unsure, the afraid.
They, too, are worthy of sanctuary.
I am naming myself whole in the light of my becoming,
every fractured piece is now a mosaic of delight.
Today, I walk into self-love as if the door was always open—as if the seat at the table of my own heart was always mine.
I am letting my joy be loud,
unapologetic in its radiance.
Welcoming each glimmer of hope with deep bows of gratitude.
The woman I am today
honors and respects and loves
all the women I have been.
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Thank you Alex, your words found me at a most difficult time today. I am sitting at my mother’s hospice bedside and I am deeply moved by the power of your gift. I played your reading for my mom to hear and I believe it was just what she needed too. 🙏🏼
I’m letting my joy be loud