In a world shaped by language, words are more than tools. They are the bones of meaning, the breath behind our intentions. They carry weight, memory, and power.
Words build and dismantle. They comfort and wound. They have the rare ability to hold both truth and contradiction in the same breath. They name the seasons of our lives—the stillness of winter, the return of spring, the lightness of summer, and the letting go of autumn. In their simplicity, they carry stories. In their silence, they echo.
Many of us grew up learning that words can hurt more than anything else. We learned this not only from strangers, but sometimes from those closest to us. Words that were meant to teach us became the very things that unraveled us. Over time, they shaped how we saw ourselves—and what we believed we were worth.
Still, there is another side.
A single word can rebuild what was broken. It can call someone back to themselves. It can light the path forward. When used with care, words can hold space for truth, tenderness, and change. They can name what once felt unspeakable.
Like a conductor guiding an orchestra, we must learn to speak with intention. We must choose words that bring clarity, that create space, that invite healing.
My Psalm
In a world that often wears us down, let our words offer something gentler. May they soften what has hardened. May they remind us of what is still possible.
Let our words move slowly, like water finding its way through dry soil—quiet but steady. Let them nourish what has been waiting beneath the surface.
For those carrying unspoken pain, let our words offer a place to rest. Let them affirm what was once dismissed. Let them speak not only to others, but also to the parts of ourselves that were silenced long ago.
Speak to your younger self with honesty and care. Replace the language that harmed you with words that help you grow. Rebuild with compassion. Reclaim your story.
And when you rise—tired, healing, unfinished—let your voice be steady. Let your words reflect the life you are choosing now.
Because words, when reclaimed, can be a kind of resurrection.
So speak with courage. Say what matters. Use your voice to mend, to connect, and to begin again.
Let your words ignite something real. Let them move you closer to wholeness. And through them, offer healing—one word at a time.
