Chaos with Cait

The world is vast, yet in a child’s gaze even a pebble becomes a planet.

My mind breaks open, and everything, all of my thoughts rush in at once. I pray I make it to safety in time.

What if we sat down at the same table the weary, the wounded, the wandering and broke open our ribcages like loaves of bread, passing each other warmth instead of war?

Hate does not vanish when spoken, it multiplies like a stone dropped into water rippling out until the whole shore shakes. Hate sharpens hands into weapons, and turns mouths into blades. Hate teaches children to inherit wounds they did not ask to carry. Hate hides in the casual shrug, and in the moments we do not question why cruelty is easier to choose than care. But, hates consequences do not hide. Oh no, the consequences bleed into our streets, they fracture families. Thes

I am learning how to move again, how to breathe without bracing. I am learning how to open my hands again after years of holding nothing but the weight of surviving. The storm has passed, but my body sometimes still listens for thunder.

I build mosaics from everything I’ve survived and call it art. I look at all the broken pieces of me, and I see a brand new start.

I am both the storm and the bloom, the ache and the afterglow.

Faith is stepping into the fog, and trusting the ground to rise beneath you. Are you willing?

I have this craving, but my hunger is different than most. I ache for palms that hold the fragile. I hunger for laughter that spills over, and for kindness that is served without suspicion. I wonder each day when dinner will be served.

The horizon is endless, and so am I.

I am learning that joy doesn’t need a reason, only a little space to land. So I have accepted a new job, at emotion air traffic control.

I am half dream, and half dandelion belonging wherever the wind believes. And wherever my soul should wish.

I remember the moment, when I first saw you. The world stood still on its axis, and the air began moving in slow motion. Mesmerized I was by your souls beauty.

Letting go is an alchemy, the soft undoing of what bound you the exceptional transformation of ache into awe. Letting go is a slow transmutation in the chambers of the heart, where what once weighed heavy begins to lighten, where the old sorrows lose their sharpness, and the self you thought was broken learns again to breathe in its own brilliance.

We are borrowers of sunrise and moonlight, returning them slowly one day at a time. You must try not to forget that tomorrow is never promised And the now is all that we have.

I asked the ocean how she survives the pull of the moon. And she said, “I just let myself be moved.” “Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked her. “Sometimes,” she admitted, “but pain that teaches you to expand isn’t the same as pain that closes you.” She splashed a wave onto the shore like a sigh. “I grow each time I rise. I rest each time I fall.” Then she quietly crept toward my feet on the sand and said, “You, too, are allowed to move this steadily through your own tides.”

Every time I choose hope, the universe writes my name in brighter ink. A declaration that I am still here, that I have been here, and that I belong here.

My boundaries are not walls, they are doors, that I decide who walks through. I do not leave myself easily accessible I like to know a persons motives and intentions.

My purpose? To burn the cages they tried to build around my name. To blaze through silence, to scorch the comfort of those who tried to contain me. I am fire. they cannot hold me.

I am not negotiable. My worth is not currency. My worth is a crown, it is fire, it is law. I bend for no one, bow to nothing, and burn the hands that try to measure me. I am unclaimed, unstoppable, unbound.