Wolf moon

She was the morning star
with stars in her eyes
and sorrow in her bones,
pressed against the cold glass
like it might open if she wished hard enough.

Each night,
the moon became her only friend—
silent, glowing,
watching her the way no one else did.

And she whispered to it,
softly,
“Send me a wolf…”
A protector.
A guide.
Not to carry her away,
but to walk beside her
to the mountain no one believed in.

She didn’t want escape—
she wanted truth.
She wanted to rise.
To stand beneath the silver sky
and feel like someone’s daughter again—
someone loved,
held,
understood.

So the moon listened.

And though it took years,
one night it answered.

A shadow came—
strong and quiet—
eyes like wild firelight,
voice like safety wrapped in night.

And he said,
“I heard you.”
“You were never invisible.”
“I’ve come to walk you home.”

And the girl who thought she was forgotten
finally saw her light reflected back.

She was not lost.
She was becoming.


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I’m so proud of her. And of you.