On The Mountain
we allowed out worries to fall, fall to the bottom along with our hurt...
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/601c9a2f7f73fa001c564370.jpg)
Trees can’t bloom until they grow, Deep roots seeking solace
below.
From ashes, flowers rise anew, burnt pages whispering
stories true.
On God’s Mountain, veiled in mist, worries cascade, their
grip dismissed.
Downward they tumble, like forgotten stones, As hurt
unravels, our brokenness atones.
Scars etched upon our fragile skin; Now glisten with love—a
golden spin.
Self-love blooms, a sacred art, For the women we were, and
the ones we’ll chart.
We relate, we reflect, like polished glass, Sunlight dancing off
windows, memories amassed.
Clear-eyed now, we glimpse destiny’s decree, Discovering the
women we’re meant to be.
About the Creator
Tracy Toccara
Tracy Toccara is a poet and a warrior of life whose verses chronicle a profound journey from the shadows of addiction to the light of recovery. Her collection of poems is not merely words on a page; it is a testament to her resilience.
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