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Self taught photographer from West Oahu and shorebreak junkie!🌊. Memento Mori💀 live Aloha!Old site @alfyz_view. Published! DM for rates!🤙🏽
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There are seasons
when healing does not feel like healing at all.

It feels like losing pieces of yourself
you once swore you needed
like standing in the ashes
of everything you thought would last
and wondering who you are
without it.

I have grieved people
who are still alive.
Grieved versions of myself
that could never come with me.
Grieved the woman I was
before I learned how much
a heart could endure.

And some days,
growth feels cruel.

Because no one tells you
that becoming new
means mourning the old.

Then I met a war horse.

A creature who had known battle,
yet somehow still knew
how to be gentle.

And I wondered
if that was why I understood him.

Because I know what it is
to survive things
that changed the way I walk.

To carry wounds
no one can see.

To have been trained
by pain to stay alert,
to brace for the next impact,
to mistake peace
for the silence before another war.

And still

there is something soft in me
that survived.

Something that still wants
to trust.

Still wants to love.
Still wants to run freely
without looking behind me.

Maybe that is what healing is.

Not becoming untouched by war,
but realizing
the war is over.

Learning that I don’t have to
keep fighting
just because I learned
how to survive.

So I stood beside him
and for a moment
I didn’t feel broken.

I felt understood.

Two beings
standing quietly
after battles
that changed us

still breathing,
still beautiful,
still here.

And perhaps freedom
doesn’t always arrive
as a door opening.

Maybe sometimes
it stands quietly beside you,
breathing softly,
waiting for you to stop running.

So I am here.

Still grieving.
Still growing.
Still unfolding. 

A little softer
where life once made me hard.

A little emptier
where something had to leave.

A little more whole
because I finally stopped
trying to become
who I was before I broke.

Maybe I am not
the woman I was before the war.

Maybe I am something
more sacred

the woman who survived it
and still chose
to remain gentle 🤍
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