Inspiring Recovery Poems Novels & Stories

For once, Kira was grateful for a shitty work ethic. She couldn’t tell if they were gone yet, but the fire in her lungs from lack of oxygen forced her to act. Kira started to dig; the soil loose around her. It took effort to claw her way to freedom only because she was still healing from the bullet wound in her neck. Dizzy from lack of air and blood loss, she fought her way to the surface. When she finally broke through the dirt, heaving for breath, the cool mountain air seared her lungs as she coughed out dirt.

“The point is, I have been riddled with trauma so terrible. Watching my parents have the most horrible marriage was definitely not the best inspiration for me to also encourage the institution. I never planned to fall in love with you, but I did and I never knew what was next for us, and when you suggested the inevitable. I got scared, the trauma that had plagued me was not easy to let go.” “We all go through things….” “I panicked and ran from the best thing that could ever happen to me and I’m wondering if I could get her back.” I finished, not recognizing where I had gotten the words or the depths from. But it was merely what was in my heart, if she could open it and take a peek. Maybe she

The last bit of strength I had been clinging to… the strength born of rage, of pain, of a bitten lip… completely vanished. The men released their hold as there was no need for it anymore, and my body went limp, splatting onto the cold asphalt. There was no strength left to even try to lift my head, and the world slowly dissolved into a silent, descending darkness. The darkness was a warm, thick blanket, promising peace. But something in me, a last, stubborn ember, refused to be smothered. My eyelids were leaden, but they fluttered, fighting a losing battle against the drug and the trauma. The world was a blurry, tilting mess of shadows and distant headlights.

When I next woke up, my eyes had been covered. I could not see even the smallest pinprick of light. My hands and legs were bound. Pain radiated from my back. The rope that bound me was lifted. Then, my feet were submerged in icy water. The water rose, slowly enveloping my chest and head… I could not breathe. I could not even scream for help. Eventually, I was raised up again as I thrashed violently. I gulped in huge lungfuls of air and coughed so hard until I could not make any more noise. The person at the edge of the pool finally spoke up.

I remembered how we had our first camping, our first diving lessons, our first times trying the rides and my first time to feel that I lived a life. My disease is my greatest motivation for now. It made me realize I have a shorter life than others and it keeps on telling me that I should not waste any moment. It was scary at first knowing my days are just numbered but now, I am not that scared anymore. I want to seize my seconds with everything I had. I want to make sure that the people I loved are going to be okay without me. I hope they will. “Hearbeats Of Poetry.” I stated as I read the poems Tim created. I feel like he could write better than me. His words are like him-simple yet elegant

“I want to feel the sea breeze and hear the sound of the waves.” “That sounds great!” Mark smiled widely. “I’ll take care of everything. We’ll make wonderful memories together.” I tried to relax more. He began doing little things that made me happy, like reading books, gardening, and spending time with family. Every laugh from Zara and Zoya made me feel more alive. In the midst of this recovery journey, I also started writing. I found that expressing my feelings through words helped lighten the burden in my heart. I began writing stories about my life journey, about my struggle against cancer, and about the love I received from my family.

I stood tall amidst the ruins of their intrusion, my spirit unbroken, my soul aflame with triumph. Gasping for breath, I emerged from the mental battlefield, my entire being pulsating with the remnants of our struggle. The night seemed to breathe with me, the ancient trees whispering their approval of my resilience. I had faced the abyss and emerged stronger, my mind forged in the crucible of adversity.

The poem is titled 'SPEAK TO YOURSELF' and it reads thus. ******************************************************* How often do you converse with yourself? How often do you speak to yourself? How often do you listen to yourself when no one is speaking? How often do you minister to yourself? How often do you truly embrace yourself, your pain, your flaws, your truth, your fears... SPEAK TO YOURSELF Say to yourself.... "Though I am shattered and bereaved and I might wither with the wind but like seeds, I can sprout out of the ground, new and better. "

The night was gentle, with the lights shining brightly. I knew, at that moment, that my life was finally on its rightful track, free from lies and suffering; just the courage and strength to grow toward the light, wherever it led me.

Detained in darkness, isolation, My days began to drag in strife. Without faith and inspiration, Without tears, and love and life. My soul attained its waking moment: You re-appeared before my sight, As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light. And now, my heart, with fascination, Beats rapidly and finds revived Devout faith and inspiration, And tender tears and love and life. + Sam was waiting for me at the airport. My eyes were puffy and irritated, I knew I looked like a mess without having to look in a mirror. Sam looked at me with sympathetic eyes bringing me into a tight hug as I cried into his chest.