These poems weren’t planned. They arrived quietly—while folding clothes, washing dishes, sitting still when I didn’t know what else to do. They come from a slow conversation with God that never really ends. There are no answers here, just tiny moments of noticing: how grief settles, how faith slips in sideways, how some days feel like questions in a language I don’t fully speak. If you’ve ever whispered “are you serious right now?” to the sky—this one’s for you.
