Units of Fire

I didn’t write these poems because I healed perfectly. I wrote them because I survived imperfectly—and kept going anyway. I wrote this book for the versions of me who didn’t have language yet. The girl in foster care who thought love was temporary. The teenager who learned how to be strong before she learned how to be safe. The woman who stayed too long because hope felt kinder than leaving.

I wrote this for anyone who grew up raising themselves. For the single mothers building homes out of exhaustion and devotion. For the women who shook while leaving and were told it didn’t count as bravery. These poems are not here to glamorize pain. They are here to tell the truth about it— And to prove that truth doesn’t have to end in ruin.