A few years ago, in a quiet room in London, I took a breath that changed everything. It was meant to be a simple trauma-release technique, but instead, something inside me shattered. I didn’t know why. I just knew that I had touched something deep—something raw and unresolved.

That moment stayed with me for years, lingering in the background like an unanswered question. And then, just recently, during a group breathwork session, the truth finally surfaced. I had been carrying a grief I hadn’t even recognized. A weight I had never put words to.

The space was held by two incredible men—grounded, authentic, and deeply committed to healing. Under their guidance, I finally let go. And in that release, I found something unexpected: clarity.

That experience inspired the poem I’m about to share. It’s called *Breathing Through the Ashes.* It’s a reflection on grief—not just the pain it brings, but the way it reshapes us, teaches us, and, in its own strange way, helps us heal.

Here it is.