Poetic Therapy


Kanal geosi va tili: ko‘rsatilmagan, ko‘rsatilmagan
Toifa: ko‘rsatilmagan


“Mending hearts, one verse at a time.”
Admin: @Ameliorater

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Kanal geosi va tili
ko‘rsatilmagan, ko‘rsatilmagan
Toifa
ko‘rsatilmagan
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Dear Stranger, You Are Doing Okay It doesn’t matter if the world feels out of reach right now. It doesn’t matter if your heart feels too tired to try you are still here.

You made it through yesterday, and that is no small thing. You’ve carried yourself through every impossible moment. And though you may not see it, you’ve been building a life out of the cracks you’ve fallen through.

Dear stranger, it’s okay if today doesn’t feel like progress. It’s okay if you feel stuck, or lost, or lonely.

Just remember this even now, you are growing into someone who is learning to love themselves. And that is everything.


One day
you’ll look back on this version of yourself
the one who stayed soft
even when life got sharp
the one who kept showing up
even when it felt impossible—
and you’ll be so proud
you’ll thank yourself for holding on
for believing in mornings
for daring to hope
even when the world
was so heavy.

You don’t see it now
but even this moment
this messy, aching, breaking moment
is a part of your becoming

You are growing roots
even here
even now
you are becoming someone
you will love forever.

~


You feel like a stranger
in your own skin,
but even the moon has phases
where it hides,
only to reemerge whole.
Take your time.
There is no rush
to become.
You are still you,
even in your quietest days.

~


There are moments when you wonder if you’re doing enough,
if you’re enough.
The truth is, you are—more than you know.
You may not see it yet, but every act of kindness,
every effort,
every quiet moment of courage
is enough to make a difference in this world.

Your worth isn’t tied to perfection
or the expectations others place on you.
It’s in the way you show up,
even on the days you feel like you can’t.
You are enough,
just as you are
and that is more than enough for the world to see.

~


The days pass, one after another, as if on silent feet, never lingering, never stopping. There is something both soothing and sorrowful in their passing, as though each day carries with it a small piece of what we once had, and with every dawn, we are left with less and less. I watch the world outside—how the trees sway in the wind, how the sunlight shifts across the room—and I think to myself, how strange it is to be a part of something so grand, and yet so fleeting. For what is time but the space between one moment and the next? And yet, in that space, we live, we love, we lose. How strange it is to think of all that is gone, even as the world continues to spin around us.








I told myself I could write the universe,
galaxies of emotion,
black holes of longing,
stars of hope.
But here I am,
struggling to light a single match.
The fire doesn’t come,
and I am left with shadows.

~


The Mother’s Sacrament

She washed her hands
not in water,
but in the blood of her own dreams.
Each dish she cleaned
was a sin forgiven,
each floor she swept
a blessing laid
at the feet of the ungrateful.

Her life was a liturgy of loss.
Her love, a sacrament
she gave to those
too blind to see her as divine.

O Mother, priestess of suffering,
your altar is the kitchen table,
your chalice, an empty cup.
And still, you serve.




There will be days
when everything you build
will crumble
and you will sit in the ruins
thinking this is the end

but darling
what if the rubble
was just the beginning?

what if the fall
was not your failure
but the earth reminding you
you can rebuild
stronger
than before?

start again
and again
until the house you build
is made of gold.


There is a fire in you
that cannot be extinguished
not by the doubts of others
not by the failures of yesterday
not even by the fear
you sometimes drag
like a shadow

This fire was meant
to light your path
to burn through every obstacle
to remind you
that you are not here to sit idly
you are here
to live loudly
to create beautifully
to love fiercely.

And when the fire feels small
when it flickers in the wind
remember
even the tiniest spark
can ignite the brightest blaze.


She learned to be strong because asking for help felt like weakness.”




Some days you will question
if you are enough,
if you have done enough,
if you are loved enough.

And on those days,
I will sit beside you,
trace your hand with my fingers,
and tell you this,
you are not a measure of your mistakes.
You are not defined by your doubts.
You are enough
simply because you are here.

16 ta oxirgi post ko‘rsatilgan.

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