“She Who Pauses” She rises for many, before she breathes in, A giver of comfort, through thick and thin. But somewhere inside, a whisper remains: “You, too, are worthy of sunshine and rain.” Not every crown is forged in gold, Some are soft hands that never grow cold. But strong she is, in moments she bends— Even warriors need time to mend. A shower in peace, a stretch in the sun, A cup of warm tea when the work is all done. These little rebellions, soft and divine, Say: “My soul is my own, this moment is mine.” She touches the sky not by doing it all, But by rising each time she dares to fall. With lips that speak love into her name, And eyes that forgive every flicker of shame. Self-care is not selfish, it’s roots and it’s wings, It’s letting herself be more than all things. A walk, a nap, a laugh, a deep sigh— It’s the quiet belief: “I’m allowed to be high.” So pause, dear sister. Refill your cup. You’re not falling behind when you’re filling up. You are the fire, the ocean, the air— And you’re allowed to be held in your own care.