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  • Writer's pictureDaizha Lankford

A Collection of Poems From My Time of Healing

Updated: Jun 25, 2020

My closest friends, loyal readers, and soul mates know that poetry was one of my first loves. Rarely shared, I thought it was necessary to share some of the most intimate parts of my brain.

The following poems offer insight into my journey of healing and growing the past few months. I wrote short sentences, long proses, and everything in between. It’s somehow documented some of my pain, purpose, random thoughts and healing. I hope you enjoy.

Untitled #1

Do you remember when we found comfort in each other’s heartbeats?

Do you remember when the very touch of my hand caressed your soul.

Did you forget so easily the woman that taught you how to rise up from the ashes and make yourself whole?

How could you forget so easily?

-1/2/19: heartbreak in its first phases


Today someone looked at me for the first time in a long time.

Their eyes gazed into my soul and left me longing for affection.

They looked as my curves swayed, my dress clung to my hips, my body gave life to their spirit.

They were falling in love with me without an exchange of words.

For the first time in a long time, I felt desired.

And as I looked in the mirror, I realized, my suitor was me.

- 1/16/19: I can fall in love with my damn self.


Growth was never meant to be pretty.

It was intended to take the roots you were used to, stretch them out, and replant them where your tears used to lie.

Growth was never meant to comfort you, swaddle you, or complete your sense of self.

This growth was meant to be painful.

This growth was meant to make you fall in love with yourself again.

-2/17/19: you were never meant to stay comfortable

Untitled #2

When was the last time you sat in a parked car and spilled your heart?

When was the last time you sat in a park and let the trees blow whispers of creativity in your ears?

Did you find it alarming you started staying in more and stopped exploring?

Did you forget what it felt like to be free from the world in the palm of your hand?

When was the last time you vibed to music the radio didn't tell you to like?

When was the last time you felt yourself in a world that constantly tells you who to be?

-1/21/19: what happens when you realize you were lost all along?


We measured our love by the timing of the street lights.

We used to sit in the car for hours, parked car conversations laced between silent glances and sensual tension.

We would play slow jams and dance with each other only using the tips of our fingers.

We would let the summer pass us by while the streetlights stayed silent.

But at night, under the stars, we were most alive. We were most awake. Coffee drinking addicts at midnight and late sleepers by day.

We showered with the waves of words.

We let the sun in even when the bulbs were dead.

But then Broken promises flickered on and off like strobing flashlights.

We fought tree branches disguised as unrequited love, pretending we had the strength to conquer them.

Eventually the lights turned off. The bulbs ran out, the sun didn’t come up.

Eventually midnight came and the streetlights never came on. And there went our love.

-3/4/19: 3am conversations with your best friend

Woman of Earth

Being a woman is a gift. We grow life. God chose us to grow life, and I think that’s so important to remember. We shape the earth with every breath we take. We move mountains in the shapes of adversity and still must do it with a smile. We wake up with something to prove and go to sleep with burdens to bury. Yet, we are covered in love. A woman can be anything. A woman can embody femininity and softness like water while also being as solid as a rock. We are the earth.

-3/2/19: when you found strength in your womanhood

Untitled #3

Inconsistent Idiosyncrasies haunt me as I wait in the silence.

Unanswered calls turn to day dreams of unwanted time spent.

Love that exists only in moments peels away at my skin as I wonder what else has your attention.

Hours feel like years, waiting for your time to be free. Only when it’s conveniently convenient for you, but not for me.

But Missing you means missing parts of myself., So really I’m only left halfway full at the thought of you being anywhere else.

The thoughts of loneliness set in rather fast when you sit by the phone, knowing that the love language you speak doesn’t match anymore.

Knowing that the love language you need doesn’t fit in with your time table.

Knowing that you're not worth the time, the seconds that a text message takes. Knowing that phone calls last two seconds because “I can’t talk, I’ll call you later.” is really an empty promise anyway.

Knowing that the things you crave most, make you feel the most empty inside.

Knowing that the love you give means effort, but that love has still died.

“Are you lovable”

“Are you worth it”

“Is someone willing to put you first like you do everyone else”

Pierces at my heart.

But intimately, as I explore myself, I’m learning that those who love you will never stop trying to keep you once they start.

Damn. What a wonderful way that must be to be loved.

-4/12/19- doubting your capability to be loved even in your prime.

Bad Bitch

I'm a bad bitch and I know it.

My hair could tame a lion.

My breast could feed the earth.

My love could shake you down and build you up without you even knowing it.

My walk is infinitely gracing the earth, haunting your mind, reminding you of fire and water at the same damn time.

And here you now know you can never find...

A bad bitch like me. The End.

- 5/2/19: when no one could tell you nothing


Can you believe I used to sit in my brokenness and believe it was the world plotting against me?

When in reality, my brokenness was the first step of my healing.

My brokenness was a gift to my heart and a blessing to my mind.

My brokenness taught me strength.

It taught me to cling to the very ground that I was trying to raise myself up from.

My brokenness peeled away at my emotional layers of skin, so they could begin to grow again.

My brokenness was not my defeat, just the beginning of my victory.

Neither is yours.

-7/19/19: lessons you learned in the midst of pain.

Green Grass

People used to ask me what it meant to be healed?

As if healing was a process with a finish line that could easily be sealed.

As if healing could be achieved in a timespan and never have to happen again.

But as life goes on, and pain moves forward, healing comes and goes in retrograde.

My roots have been burned, regrown, and burned again.

My roots have gained nourishment, retrieved love, and lost friends.

My roots have been healed, and then reminded that this process is infinite in its time.

But just know... that this journey of healing is still going, still growing, and it's all mine.

- 8/4/19: the storm clears, but it still rains, so dance in it.

Til next time, Peace & Love, D.

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