Poems about Personal Transformation

I was the quiet child with eyes cast down,
hid in the shadows, shrinking small,
while we wore the guise of a family crowned,
and smiled for the world, dressed up and all,
our “perfect life” a brittle wall.

In our home, storms would break and swell—
a father’s voice, a crashing wave,
a mother bending to catch and quell
the pieces left for her to save,
while praying for strength, though none she gave.

We fled our land for a brighter shore,
dreamed of peace and kinder years,
but found old wounds turned raw once more,
as hope gave way to hidden tears—
and no one guessed our smiles hid fears.

A lonely child with secrets kept,
I clutched my silence like a prize,
and walked the path where sorrow slept,
until the past began to rise
and brought me back with sharper eyes.

Now as a mother, I face the night,
where buried memories stir and ache,
and hold my children close and tight,
to guard the love I’ll never break—
their tender hearts, no harm shall take.

Each day, I learn to heal the seams,
to weave new warmth from threads of pain,
unlearning shadows and shattered dreams,
so love may bloom without the stain
of anger’s curse, of bruised refrain.

This journey now is one of grace,
of mending wounds I thought would stay,
for healing is the light I trace,
reclaiming joy along the way—
and finding peace where scars once lay.

I was my father’s mistress growing up.
It brought my mother great relief.
Taking the pressure off of her.
It made my sister jealous.
I was daddy’s favourite.

Entirely justified in his mind.
An outlet for the outlet.
When my mother’s needs boiled over.
His relief deemed necessary.

I became a mistress to all.
Temporary relief. Eternal grief.
Pressure to both disappear and perform.
Every man’s favourite.

For my worth was written very young.
My purpose well defined.
Serve. Please. Relieve.
An invisible slave.

Today I am no one’s mistress.
It brings me great relief.
I see through. I see you.
Forever familiar. No longer preferred.
The pressure on me is not mine and all mine.
All mine to let go.
I am my own favourite.

The past does echo. No longer fate.
I’m more than the burdens of hate.
Chains unraveled. Shatterings whole.
With every breath, I claim my name.

I awoke early with a start today.
My inner child Tee Jay wanted to play.
As I stepped into the shower.
I was overcome with his power.
So, softly I said okay
Where would you like to go today?
The Island was fun to go to before
Oh please can we go there some more?

Breakfast eaten dishes cleaned and put away
We had to pack a lunch for the day.
Giddy delight awaiting the bus, what’s all this fuss.
We saw the ferry boat and our heart burst with desire.
The smell of the wooden floors from the boat set his little heart on fire
It all brought back happy childhood memories.
That did transpire.

As we left the boat we heard Centerville was calling.
So off we trod to see what had changed.
As we rounded the bend, and the buildings came into view
The view hadn’t changed as much as we thought it would do
Buildings, rides, all the familiar smells
Cotton candy, popcorn, hotdogs, they all seemed the same.

On to the plot where we could see
The height of the tree we had planted on a trip.
The thin little tree I could close my hand around
Was now big enough to almost wrap my arm around,
No more 20 inches tall, more like 30 feet and climbing.
The tall maple branches reaching for the sky.
The canopy of leaves a welcome sight to the eye.

The carousel ride that Tee Jay loved as a child
Flooding back to my mind all the happy memories that were wild

Onward we plod through the maze we played
4 hours long ago to complete, only 2 ½ today
By lunch our stomach and feet were growling
So rest and refuel was next on the list.
The beautiful view one dare not miss.
Over the bridge to the family beach we did go
Only now things are different, it’s not for everyone you know.

Onward we go to the people who live there
And run into an old friend who still lived there.
We reminisced about the good old days
And how we found wonder places to play.
The sailboats all tall and clean were lined up and ready
For all to be seen.

The day was getting short, and we were both getting tired
So we started to head home so we could retire.
The toot of the horn as we approached the dock
Brought a tear to my eye which was quite a shock.

As we slowly walked to the bus to go home
I asked what was up and Tee Jay said I don’t want to go home
Because I know what happens when we get there
She will be waiting to beat us for going for the day
I reached inside to give him a hug
Not this time Tee Jay, not ever again
For I am here to protect you now because I am now a man.

The beatings she gave, the abuse that he did, are now just a memory
That god willing one day, with you helping me
All of those bad memories will finally go away.

And we will go back to the beach to play.

I am from…
The lovely building
Where I played with my friends
At the age of 6
While he ogled from the other end.

I am from the swings
The slides, the seasaw and laughter,
From the cherished monsoon of 1990
And not from what he did to me soon after.

I am from the motherly love of my babysitter,
Whom I called “aai”, or mother in Marathi.
From that first taste of meat and fish
that she lovingly cooked for me.

I am from her delicious spicy mutton curry,
That I’d gulp down in a hurry,
From the maddening smell of rassa,
That stays with me to this day.

Neatly, deeply, lovingly knitted into my life
I am from the spice in Maharashtrian food.
I am from the peanuts, garlic, and the rich coconutty konkan curries
That love me in my lowest moods.
For they are me. And I am from them.

I am from trust, faith, and innocence
From joy, laughter, and pain.
I am from hugs and love for my baby sitter
I have not lost, I gained.

I am from acceptance and from rebellion
I am from anger but from wisdom
I am brave and I remember
I am from my memories.
Not just some.
I am from all my memories.

- Swe

Where did I lose myself?
Talking. Thinking. Trying.
Hiding.
Remembering. Realizing. Struggling.
Hurting.
When did I lose myself?
Burying. Protecting. Finding.
Hating.
How I lost myself…
Avoiding.
Here I am.

the same way
i count my thoughts
in shapes
& constellations
strung together
one too many times.

We change, turn over covers and apple strudels.
We wake, fresh out the oven.
We grow meeting seasons with new energy.

Be a tree.
We do not know why we are here.

Neither do trees.

Purpose lives, breathes, shakes our cores, spirits, and psyches.

I was blessed with a body, arms that wrap around my community, hands that are warm
and I whistle wind songs, chiming tunes, writing rhythms extending towards you.

I am resilient. I am unique. I am unconventional. I am authentic.

Trees cannot be replicated as replacement carries new weight, manufacturing wisdom
in my palms, reaching up, grounding myself in moss and stone and cement.

No matter where I go, I leave a mark.

One human thumbprint
is worth more
Than a thousand.

Learn
To be
Forgiving

An open cloud
Welcoming a rainbow
Still rising
After every storm

Through lighting
Quaking earth
Fear and failure
Stay in the sky

Come nightfall
Spread thin
Straying into morning
Accept the sun

Glide ahead
Through strikes
Not hiding
Only releasing

A cloud
Always changing
Never ceasing
Its softness on dark days

Learn
To be
Forgiving

I breath solace
Tasting flurries of foam
Fantasizing of feathers
Caressing the water
Cleansing, I am here
This moment turns
Grey stones into safe spaces
Contemplating nothing
Enjoying my pencil tracing
Over my pages in the books
Carrying across the next moment

Until tomorrow,
Friend.

It took oh so long to get myself straight
Doubtfulness delaying all the right things
Herbal teas, mysticism, oral fixations
Wise words written by those from before me

Take lots of advice, some good, some not;
Whatever you do don’t try to heal too fast
Except if you accept or grin and bear it
Growth and change are inevitable

Played the fool by truth that was yet not truth
No one will take pity on feeble attempts
Such contrived representations: unless you
Want them to, and you don’t want them to

Picked myself up and dusted myself off
Chose to contradict - to deny my demise
Sang my song out loud without audience or reason
Smiled and laughed and reveled in it all

Ready to live for the here and what’s next
Forsake the past, the need to make right by
Fulfilling adolescent fantasies
Made of cathartic Hollywood endings

I had to look within while I was doing without
We all need to find one another but
The key to my recovery lay in
The discovery of what makes me, me