A Garden Still Grows Poem by Angela Penia

Once upon a time,
no knights rode through my skies—
only a quiet girl with secrets in her eyes.
A still room, a windowpane, a forest in my head—
where sunlight bleeds a golden haze and shadows paint my dread.
I built a castle made of glass, so fragile yet so grand,
then fled when echoes filled the halls, afraid of their demand.
I am firelight and frozen air, a whisper and a shout—
a silent promise hidden there, a wild and joyful doubt.
I am a garden of contradictions, where thorns and roses twine;
a wistful smile, a hidden tear—this treasure still is mine.
Quiet aches hum in my bones, a steady pain I fight,
but when joy comes to find me, I bask within its light.
My body hums a sparrow's song, a whisper on the wind—
not built for wars that rage too long, but built to love, to mend.
I tire from endless chasing, the struggle to belong,
and ask the mirror on the wall, 'Am I still standing strong? '
My heart's a restless ocean, a wild and stormy sea;
loneliness, a bitter draught that often swallows me.
Yet in the depths of all this gray, a single star still gleams—
it leads me to a brighter day, a soft, awakening dream.
They call me strange, a puzzle left unsolved—
I speak without a practiced mask, my purpose still involved.
My words, though sharp, can set me free—a truth within the pain.
The shadows hum their magic tune; their silence knows my name.
So here I stand, both broken and whole—
a garden girl, a work of art, a story still untold.
I'll find my peace in every shade, each thread of tarnished gold.
No magic wand was needed. Just the courage to grow strong,
slowly at peace, not faster.
Writing my own
happily ever after.