Halted 

Not every birth was blessed by calm,

Some were wrapped in a ruthless psalm,

Formed in thunder, baptized in fire,

Taught by hunger, raised by desire.

The silence wounded like broken glass, 

Where questions died and answers passed,

Where shadows measured the worth we had,

And mercy faltered, or turned to bad.

We learned to armor a wounded chest,

To wear composure, suppress unrest,

To joke while bleeding, to smile through ache,

To bend but never permit the break.

The load was heavy, it seemed unfair,

That no one noticed the weight we’d bear,

Survival asked for a sharpened will,

A colder mask, a quieter still.

No, not every choice we made was right,

We stumbled harshly through the night,

But now, we’re proud we didn’t cease,

We carved our fragments, into release.

And we refuse the shallow gaze,

That sees the surface and not the maze,

For had they lived the storms we’ve crossed,

They’d know the cost of being lost.

Cathrine Hottran 2025