Letting go Without Bitterness (a reflective poem)

I thought letting go
would require me
to become something colder.

Sharper.
Less feeling.
Less open.

I thought peace
would look like indifference—
like forgetting,
like closing every door
with force strong enough
to erase the sound of its closing.

But that is not what happened.

Instead,
I became lighter.

Not emptied—
but unburdened.

There is a difference
I did not understand at first.

Because I still remember.

I remember the names,
the faces,
the versions of people
I once tried to hold together
with my own hands
when they were already slipping away.

But memory
is no longer a place I live inside.

It is just a place I can visit
without getting lost there.

And that is the shift
no one warns you about—

when pain stops being
your residence
and becomes
just part of your history.

I am no longer asking
why I was not chosen
by rooms I once tried to belong to.

I am no longer bargaining
with silence
or translating absence
into something I can fix.

I do not carry bitterness
because bitterness requires
continued attachment.

And I am finally learning
how to release
without turning it into poison.

There is freedom
in no longer auditioning
for love.

In no longer proving
your worth
to people committed
to misunderstanding you.

In walking away
without needing them
to understand
why you left.

I am not hardened.

I am not closed.

I am simply no longer
available
to what diminishes me.

And that,
quietly,
is where peace begins.

—

#Growth #IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Reconstruction #Reflection #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #lettingGo #Poetry

The Elephant In the Room

(A Reflection by Nandipha Chibwe)

Uncomfortable conversations require a quiet strength

There is a particular kind of courage
the world rarely applauds.

Not the loud kind.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not the kind that draws crowds
or earns standing ovations.

But the quiet, trembling bravery
of naming
what everyone else
is pretending not to see.

The boldness
of addressing the elephant in the room.

Of choosing honesty
when silence would be easier.

Because uncomfortable conversations
require a rare strength.

They demand
that we risk tension
for truth,
risk misunderstanding
for clarity,
risk temporary discomfort
for lasting peace.

Avoidance often disguises itself
as protection.

We tell ourselves:

“Now isn’t the right time.”
“I don’t want conflict.”
“Maybe it will resolve itself.”

But unspoken truths
rarely disappear.

They grow.

In resentment.
In confusion.
In distance.

Silence does not always preserve peace.

Sometimes,
it preserves dysfunction.

And so,
there is profound bravery
in sitting down,
heart pounding,
voice shaking,
and saying:

We need to talk.

Not to accuse.
Not to wound.
But to understand.
To heal.
To clear the air
before silence suffocates
what honesty could save.

Hard conversations
are not signs
of brokenness.

Often,
they are signs
that something matters enough
to fight for.

Relationships.
Boundaries.
Growth.
Self-respect.

It takes courage
to confront what is heavy.

To pull discomfort
into the light.

To choose resolution
over performance.

Because maturity
is not found
in pretending everything is fine.

It is found
in the willingness
to face what is not.

So here’s to those
brave enough
to address the elephant—

to speak carefully,
listen openly,
and lean into discomfort
for the sake of something better.

Not every hard conversation
will be easy.

But avoidance
has never been
the highest form of courage.

Sometimes,
the bravest thing
you can do
is speak.

#TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #bravery #BreakingTheSilence #RealLife

When the Body Whispers

I wore my healing
like a finish line,
swallowed the final pills
and called myself whole.

But my lungs knew better.

My body,
faithful and fragile,
sent quiet warnings—

heavy limbs,
midnight tightness in the chest,
breath that arrived
like it was carrying burdens.

Still,
I named my neglect discipline.
I called overworking strength.
I mistook depletion
for devotion.

So my body raised its voice.

A violent gasp.
A trembling prayer.
A reminder
that I am dust
and not divine.

Now bedridden,
with medicine-shaken hands,
I am learning
what pride forgot:

rest is holy.

The world does not collapse
when I am still.
God remains God
without my striving.

So I will listen sooner.
I will honor the temple.
I will trust pause
as much as progress.

Because sometimes
the most sacred healing
is not in pushing through—

but in finally
lying down.

#EveningDevotionInsights #GodIsLove #Gratitude #Growth #Habits #Poem #Spirituality #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #Thoughts #LetGoAndLetGod #Poetry

FLUENT IN SILENCE

Silence has many forms.
Sometimes it protects.
Sometimes it connects.
Sometimes it carries what we are not ready to say.
And sometimes -it becomes the very thing that harms us.
This collection explores silence not as absence but as language.
A language learned, inherited, shared and,at times reclaimed.
These poems are not just about what is unsaid, but about what silence holds-love,fear, memory, power and choice.
-Nandipha Chibwe

#Art #Growth #IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Introverts #Pain #Poem #Reflection #Saved #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #Writing #BreakingTheSilence #brokenArt #ChangingTheNarrative #MentalHealthPositivity #Poetry #Power #purpose #Relationships #silence #TellingStories #VoicesForTheVoiceless #WritfullyTessie

THE ANGRY DAUGHTER

Anger often hides vulnerability

Why are you the angry daughter? 
Why do you carry your head so high 
and wear your face so low? 

Why do you scream at everybody, 
yet speak so loudly 
with just your eyes? 

I am the daughter 
who was made to grow up— 
forced to mature 
beyond my years. 

My anger is the only way 
I know how to show strength, 
a shield to hide 
the vulnerability 
I am not allowed to express. 

I am not allowed to break down and cry, 
though anxiety consumes me. 

I am not allowed to be carefree, 
to laugh too loudly, 
to exist without expectation. 

I am not allowed to be a girl— 
for I have responsibilities, 
and mouths to feed. 

I am expected to be sane, 
yet superhuman. 
Invisible— 
yet leaving visible footprints 
for those who follow. 

So maybe I am a little angry. 
You would be too. 

I am expected to have all the solutions, 
yet I am still the problem. 

A never-ending cycle 
of expectation and frustration. 

I am the angry daughter. 

The fear I inflict 
is the only respect 
I have ever received. 

I keep breaking my back 
to distract myself 
from the weight of my heart— 
and the pain I am not allowed to express. 

For to love and be loved 
is to be weak— 
and I cannot be weak. 

So I remain the angry daughter, 
a shield around my truth. 

But in the quiet of night, 
a question lingers— 

Who can love 
such an angry, bitter woman? 

And still it echoes: 
Why are you the angry daughter? 

This poem explores the struggle that arises when we are forced to mature too quickly, and the struggle of navigating expectation, identity and self acceptance.

#Hate #Reconstruction #Reflection #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #Poetry

Fleeting Beauty

There is beauty in the ephemeral,in the fleeting moments we often overlook.

What a beauty it is 
to behold a sunflower, 
crafted with precision, so bold. 

Intricately designed— 
each seed, each grain 
carefully arranged, 
a testament to the Maker’s hand. 

What a joy it is 
to be a sunflower, 
with petals so fine and fair, 
lifting its face 
to the morning sun, 
finding warmth in golden air. 

To smile as the day begins, 
to follow the sun’s gentle spin. 

But as the light fades 
and evening draws near, 
the sunflower bows its head— 
humble, reverent, sincere. 

Like us, it returns to the earth, 
its beauty a fleeting gift, 
fragile and rare. 

Yet in its splendor, 
we see the Maker’s art— 
a masterpiece 
both delicate and strong. 

A rose is lovely, yes— 
but a sunflower, 
oh, that is a work of wonder. 

A reminder 
that we, too, are crafted 
with precision, with care, 
with love divine. 

What a beautiful, tragic gift— 
this life of ours, 
so fleeting, 
yet so profoundly designed. 

This poem reflects on how nature reminds us of divine craftsmanship in both the world and in ourselves.

#Art #EveningDevotionInsights #Newbeginnings #NewHabits #Spirituality #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #Writing #Beautiful