She Rose

By Julie Makhoul

She rose from bruised beginnings, 

Small hands brushed aside like dust, 

A voice unheard in silent rooms 

Where cruelty is dressed as trust.

She grew among the thorns and tears, 

A bloom too wild for shame, 

Bullied for her firelight 

But never tamed by blame.

Her story stitched in minor chords, 

Each heartbreak turned to sound-

She sang through storm's crescendo 

And danced on shattered ground.

She wrote her truth in starlit ink, 

Each scar a sacred verse, 

A poet shaped by galaxies 

Not bound by human curse.

She painted pain with sacred hues, 

A phoenix in her skin-

Mother, lover, maker, muse, 

Her soul refused to dim.

Now voices echo where she walks, 

Her songs unlock the sky, 

For every child who's ever been 

Taught to fade, not fly.

She rose-not flawless, but divine, 

A symphony of grace, 

A monument to what survives 

When love reclaims its place.

By Julie Makhoul