The Work of Healing

Adewusi Aisha

The pain was never an invitation.

It arrived unannounced,

wearing familiar faces,

breaking things

that should have been protected.

No one asks

to carry memories

that make silence louder

than any room,

or to learn fear

before learning peace.

What happened to you

was never the debt

you were meant to pay.

But healing

that quiet, difficult journey

cannot be walked

by someone else’s feet.

It is found

in choosing yourself

on the days you would rather disappear.

In asking for help

when pride says, “Stay quiet.”

In believing

that your past

does not own your future.

Some days,

healing looks like progress.

Other days,

it simply looks like surviving.

Both are victories

the world rarely applauds.

You cannot rewrite

the chapter that wounded you,

but you can decide

how the next page begins.

Your trauma

was never your fault.

But your healing,

however slow,

however messy,

is the greatest act of love

you can offer yourself.