When We Couldn’t Say It Out Loud

WIND (Air): The Unspoken Knowing

We carried whole truths in our throats

but dared not let them fly.

We were brilliant but quieted.

Insightful but overlooked.

Told to be “humble,” when really they meant invisible.

Told to “let it go,” when what we held was sacred.

We thought if we just got better, quieter, smarter

they’d finally see us.

But silence doesn’t earn you reverence.

It just buries your brilliance.

GROUND (Earth): The Inherited Weight

We inherited endurance like a birthright.

Passed down through grandmothers who prayed in kitchens

and mothers who loved from behind locked hearts.

We were raised on duty, not desire.

Taught to make do, make nice, make it work.

We learned how to hold it down,

even when no one held us.

We never got to say we were tired

because someone always needed us to keep going.

FLAME (Fire): The Rebellion Within

We burned quietly at first—

simmering in dreams we weren’t allowed to chase.

Then one day, the fire spoke.

Said: “I will not apologize for needing more.”

Said: “You will not guilt me into silence.”

We stopped calling survival sacred.

We let the anger mean something.

We let the NO be holy.

We chose ourselves,

not because we were selfish—

but because it was the only way to stay alive and whole.

FLOW (Water): The Sacred Becoming

Now we speak what once broke us.

We wear softness like armor,

grace like perfume,

clarity like jewelry.

We nourish what we once abandoned—

ourselves.

And no, the ache hasn’t fully left.

But now the ache is altar.

Now the ache is art.

Now the ache is the reason we live as rivers,

not reservoirs.

Free. Sacred. Unapologetically whole.