“Not every wall is built of stone. Some are stitched in silence.”

Through the green veil of hedges,

laughter spills like champagne,

music drifts over water dressed in light,

and satin skirts sweep across the grass

as if the earth beneath them

has never trembled.

It looks like joy from a distance.

It always does.

But I have learned

that some celebrations are sewn

with hidden thread,

pulled tight by unseen hands.

There is a way shadows move through a crowd

quiet weaving,

like scales brushing against silk,

never noticed by the ones

who clap the loudest.

We stand in the space

between knowing and speaking,

on our side of the wall,

watching the choreography unfold

without a single step meant for us.

The air feels heavy

with unsaid things,

but the sun still lays its gold

across the water,

reminding me

there is always light

beyond the tangle of branches.

Some stories take years to write.

Some are already written and only need the light to find them.

This one has been threading itself through many summers, people and places.

And writing unravels pain

~Kerri-Elizabeth~

This post marks the beginning of a new series—a weaving of poetry, story, and healing that will slowly unfold in the months ahead. Each piece will carry both the rawness of truth and the light of perspective, inviting you to walk with me through shadows and sunrises, uncovering what has been hidden, holding space for what has been lost, and discovering the quiet strength that rises in the telling. This is the start of an unraveling, one thread at a time.