She’s done looking back

 

She’s done looking back, questioning herself and dwelling on her mistakes.

She’s rising like the dawn of a new day, brighter, stronger and more powerful than she’s ever been.

All her life, she’s battled, struggled and fought for everything’s she’s wanted..

She didn’t get the breaks and help to climb the mountains that she faced.

She’s more than a survivor, she’s a warrior queen with a fiery spirit and a strong heart.

No longer will she allow others to take advantage of her and she’s turning the page on a new chapter..today.

No more excuses, no more apologies.

This day has been a long time coming..

When she started fighting for her dreams and stopped settling for less than she deserves-

In love, in life and in all the things that matter.

She’s casting aside the pain of her often broken heart and she’s using that anguish as fuel for her to rise stronger from the ashes.

Sure, she’s afraid and doesn’t have all the answers, but she knows she doesn’t have to..

She just has to get up, keep going and take each day and step one at a time.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the knowledge that some things are more important..

Her happiness, her life, her self worth, her friends.

Those are worth any price and she’s going to battle for what she believes in.

She’s been beaten down, dragged through failure and broken more times than she can remember..

But those challenges never defined her..

They forged her will in the fires that tried to consume her.

The flames made her the warrior she is.

Her time is now and she’s rising.

She’s taking back her life and her voice will be heard with resounding passion and conviction.

This day is long overdue and she’s seizing it with both hands and standing in front of the storms that sought to bring her to her knees.

She’s stared adversity, disaster and failure in the eyes before...

But now, she’s not wavering any more.

She’s strong, she believes and she knows she will continue to rise.

She has but a single thought as she charges forth into the struggles and fires that once almost ruined her and convinced her that she couldn’t withstand the fury of life:

“Today, I become the storm...”

|ravenwolf

For exclusive content, follow me:

TikTok : theravenwolf

Instagram: theravenwolf

Source: Facebook - The Ravenwolf

ai art by me

Perhaps the month...

 

MAY

Perhaps the month of May is permission…

yes, you may.

You may, release your winter weary bones up to the light.

Yes, you may, feel lighter, be lighter.

Yes, you may fall into ease

with the flow that is all around you

and yes, you, my love,

may allow joy to visit whenever she sees fit.

May you see, this month,

that life is much easier when you let go a little.

And look around you for the inspiration nature brings.

Perhaps the month of May is permission…

yes, you may.

Go ahead.

Take it all.

Donna Ashworth

Happy new month to you all.

Yes, you may xx

The poem ‘May’ is in my latest book, To The Women

Write it on your heart

 

“Write it on your heart

that every day is the best day

in the year.

He is rich who owns the day,

and no one owns the day

who allows it to be invaded

with fret and anxiety.

Finish every day

and be done with it.

You have done what you could.

Some blunders and absurdities,

no doubt crept in.

Forget them as soon as you can,

tomorrow is a new day;

begin it well and serenely,

with too high a spirit

to be cumbered with your

old nonsense.

This new day is too dear,

with its hopes and invitations,

to waste a moment on the yesterdays.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Jim Warren Artist

    Source: Facebook - Poet's Corner / Esquina Poetica

Two Mothers Remembered

Two Mothers Remembered
I had two mothers – two mothers I claim,
Two different people, yet with the same name.
Two separate women, diverse by design,
But I loved them both because they were mine.
The first was the mother who carried me here,
Gave birth, nurtured me, and launched my career.
She was the one whose features I bear,
Complete with the facial expressions I wear.
She gave her love, which follows me yet,
Along with examples in life that she set.
As I got older, she somehow younger grew,
And we’d laugh as just mothers and daughters do.
But then came the time that her mind clouded so,
And I sensed that the mother I knew would soon go.
So quickly she changed and turned into the other,
A stranger dressed in the clothes of my mother.
Oh, she looked the same, at least at arm's length,
But now she was the child, and I was her strength.
We’d come full circle, we women three,
My mother the first, the second, and me.
And if my own children should come to a day
When a new mother comes and the old goes away,
I’d ask of them nothing that I didn’t do.
Love both of your mothers as both have loved you.  

Author: Joann Snow Duncanson

Source: Facebook - Animal Discovery

Blue Eyes

 

A groundbreaking study by researchers at the University of Copenhagen found that all humans with blue eyes can trace their ancestry back to a single individual who lived between 6,000 and 10,000 years ago. This genetic mutation occurred in the OCA2 gene, which controls melanin production in the iris.

The discovery was led by Dr. Hans Eiberg, who found that this specific genetic switch doesn’t remove eye color entirely but “dilutes” brown eyes to blue. This same mutation has been found in every person with blue eyes studied to date—suggesting they all inherited it from a common ancestor.

Source: Facebook - Ancient history

RIP Pope Francis

Beautiful thoughts by Pope Francis while he was hospitalized.

“The walls of hospitals have heard more honest prayers than churches...
They have witnessed far more sincere kisses than those in airports...
It is in hospitals that you see a homophobe being saved by a gay doctor.
A privileged doctor saving the life of a beggar...
In intensive care, you see a Jew taking care of a racist...
A police officer and a prisoner in the same room receiving the same care...
A wealthy patient waiting for a liver transplant, ready to receive the organ from a poor donor...
It is in these moments, when the hospital touches the wounds of people, that different worlds intersect according to a divine design. And in this communion of destinies, we realize that alone, we are nothing.
The absolute truth of people, most of the time, only reveals itself in moments of pain or in the real threat of an irreversible loss.
A hospital is a place where human beings remove their masks and show themselves as they truly are, in their purest essence.
This life will pass quickly, so do not waste it fighting with people.
Do not criticize your body too much.
Do not complain excessively.
Do not lose sleep over bills.
Make sure to hug your loved ones.
Do not worry too much about keeping the house spotless.
Material goods must be earned by each person—do not dedicate yourself to accumulating an inheritance.
You are waiting for too much: Christmas, Friday, next year, when you have money, when love arrives, when everything is perfect...
Listen, perfection does not exist.
A human being cannot attain it because we are simply not made to be fulfilled here.
Here, we are given an opportunity to learn.
So, make the most of this trial of life—and do it now.
Respect yourself, respect others. Walk your own path, and let go of the path others have chosen for you.
Respect: do not comment, do not judge, do not interfere.
Love more, forgive more, embrace more, live more intensely!
And leave the rest in the hands of the Creator.”
—Pope Francis

Helen Keller

In March 1924, Helen Keller wrote a letter that still gives the world goosebumps.

Deaf and blind since infancy, Keller had spent her life redefining what was possible. But one evening, gathered around a radio with her family, she was about to experience something utterly unexpected. The New York Symphony was performing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony live. Someone in the room suggested she place her hand on the radio receiver to feel the vibrations.

What happened next defied reason—and redefined beauty.

With her fingers resting lightly on the diaphragm of the receiver, Keller felt more than vibration. She described the experience as “a sea of sound breaking against the silent shores of my soul.” Through the patterns of trembling and rhythm, she felt the pulse of cornets, the roar of drums, and the silken flow of violins. When the chorus soared into Beethoven’s triumphant “Ode to Joy,” she said it was like hearing “angelic voices rushing in a harmonious flood.”

It wasn’t hearing—not in the way we understand it. But it was something deeper. She felt music not just on her fingertips, but in her heart. She recognized joy, sadness, stillness, and power—all without a single note reaching her ears.

And in one of the most poignant passages of her letter, Helen remembered that Beethoven, too, was deaf. She said, “I marveled at the power of his quenchless spirit by which out of his pain he wrought such joy for others.”

A century later, that same joy lives on—because she proved that art has no boundary, and the human spirit can sense beauty in ways words can never fully explain. 

Source: Facebook - Colours of the Wind