A poem on a background of a painted lady butterfly: I let it happen I swore I wouldn't I'll still be me, I said. I'll still be the artist The scientist The messy adventurer At first it felt possible Or I was delusional. Exhausted. Depressed. So diminished I couldn't see The power The hint of butterfly wings.
A poem on a background of a painted lady butterfly: My brain hadn't caught up. That I hadn't changed. I'd become. A new evolution A quiet rewiring A subtle rebellion Born in matrescence. I was too tired to see -- yet. But as we grow together, Theu need less of me And I get more.
A poem on a background of a painted lady butterfly: I reclaim my power. My creative force. My iPad. (Seriously, have one that's just yours.) My sleep. And I embrace the shift From fuzzy caterpillar Into glasswing butterfly. Beautiful. Deceptively delicate. Strong. Not strong for a girl. Strong as a mother. -Kate Hardie
I thought I could stay the same.
But I didn’t.
I became.
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