mending benediction

Born from the cradle of chaos, I rose, a vessel carved from aching marrow, blood-inked and milk-fed, my ribs a cage for trembling light, a songbird still learning the tune of survival. I stumbled, oh, I stumbled through the thorns of what was given, hands blistered from clutching borrowed truths, mouth stained with the salt of unlearned apologies. Each misstep whispered, Child, the world is a fever you must dance through. And yet, beneath this heavy canopy of sky, I stretched, I swayed, I bloomed. Roots gripping the earth’s restless hum, leaves trembling with the wisdom of wind. My failures fell like husks, my hunger a furnace for gentler things.