The Place That Shaped Her Bones and Spirit
She soars above the luminous skies of Hawai‘i, returning home to the place that shaped her bones and spirit.
Beneath her, the islands unfurl like sacred altars.
Above, the heavens hum with memory and possibility.
Within her, a quiet tremble begins.
She enters this journey carrying more than her luggage—
she carries the longing to share the silent truths that have shaped her:
her ache, her grief, the quiet unraveling of her inner world.
But is it safe to be that open with the ones who raised her?
Can they hold her in her fullness,
or will she need to return once more to the role she’s always played—
the protector, the strong one, the silent support?
It is a dance she knows too well.
She was initiated early into the sacred contract:
Shield their fragility.
Guard their hearts, still tender from the journey of immigration,
still caught in the ache of displacement,
still carrying their own unspoken grief.
Her childhood was not one of being held,
but of holding.
She became the quiet strength in a house of tremors.
And in learning to protect, she silenced her own needs,
tucked away her tears,
and made her soul a sanctuary for others to rest.
Now, above the clouds, she feels the swell of emotion rise like a tide.
Tears gather from the soul’s deepest truth pushing to the surface.
She wants to be known.
Not in pieces, not in projection.
She wants them to know her in wholeness.
And still, she hesitates.
Will her vulnerability disrupt the fragile harmony?
Will her honesty be too heavy for them to hold?
The tears fall freely now,
blessed and unashamed.
Each one is a release,
a letting-go of the burden of invisibility.
In the stillness, she hears them—
the soft voices of her ancestors, of Spirit,
echoing gently through the silence:
“This too is grace.
This unraveling.
This ache.
It is the holy unraveling of your soul.”
The voices are familiar,
older than thought,
woven into her bones.
They remind her:
She is not alone in this return.
She is accompanied by the unseen,
guided by something vast,
held by a lineage that whispers of resilience and truth.
And so she lets go
of roles, of protection,
of the need to be invulnerable.
She returns home as both daughter and soul,
offering her truth as an invocation.
Whether or not it is received,
she knows the act of revealing is its own medicine.
In her grief, there is grace.
In her longing, there is light.
And in her tears,
Spirit flows freely,
washing her clean for the next becoming.