Clarity
Clarity was written in those seasons where the map goes blank—where you are no longer who you were, but not yet who you are becoming.
These poems aren't here to fix anything. Instead, they sit with the anxiety, the flickering belief, and the way a walk in the woods can mirror a restless mind. They lean into the questions that refuse to end neatly.
In these pages, you'll find recognition, and a companion for your quietest hours.
What follows is a passage from this book, a glimpse into its words that invites you to pause, reflect, and feel the quiet rhythms within:
• THEIR OWN MAP •
You could see the pen’s silhouette.
Dancing ink, outlining a rhythm too clear to miss.
The plan was there, but an incline appeared as eyes became too trusting.
These plans had their own map; hidden in roads distant to see.
Clarity, spare me.
Turn, turn, turn.
A new sketch awaits.
Acquainted knowledge—please be kind.