GROUNDED IN PAIN

Fallen From the Heavens:

A Story of a Broken Angel

I was flying so high. There was a time, not long ago, when I believed I had reached a place of peace. I soared above the noise, above the pain, where the world seemed so far below. I thought | was safe, untouchable, wrapped in light. And then, it all shattered.

It felt as though I had been shot from the sky, ripped from the heavens. One moment, I was flying, and the next, I was falling. A violent descent into darkness. I remember the moment I hit the ground — it was brutal, sharp, and final. My wings were torn, my body broken. Blood stained my skin, and all I could do was lie there, motionless. The impact took everything from me.

wings torn, body broken

blood staining her skin

unable to move

sometimes life

takes flight from you

and leaves you grounded

but for now

it’s okay to weep

to ache

to let the pain live

because even without wings

there is beauty

in standing again

I lay there for what felt like an eternity, staring into the emptiness that stretched before me. The world had changed in an instant, gone from light to pitch black.

Everything I had known, everything | had built, was gone in seconds. I had fallen into a depth I hadn't visited in years. And this time, I had no desire to rise.

I was alone in a dark forest. The trees loomed over me like silent witnesses, indifferent to my pain. The ground beneath me was cold, unyielding. There was no comfort here, no one to save me. And strangely, I didn't want to be saved. Like a bird that had been hunted, I waited for the one who shot me down to come and collect what remained. I waited for the end.

I didn't fight it. For the first time in my life, I didn't try to pull myself up, didn't try to shake off the pain and pretend to be okay. I stayed down. Day turned to night, and then another day came, and another night. I let myself sink into the earth, into the grief. I gave myself time to mourn. To bleed. To be broken.

People say time heals all wounds. But it's not time that heals. It's acceptance. It's the willingness to let go of what was, to stop trying to fly when your wings are gone.

There, in that darkness, I found something unexpected. A stillness. A silence that felt like peace, not like the peace of soaring above the world, but a different kind of peace. One that comes from being grounded, from being here, on the earth.

I realized I don't need to fly anymore. I don't need to rise above the world, distancing myself from it, so that no one can touch me, no one can hurt me. I don't need to escape. I don't need to be alone.

Now, I am learning to walk. Slowly, painfully, but surely. I am learning to place one foot in front of the other, to trust that the ground will hold me. I am learning to live here, in the middle of the chaos. The noise, the mess, the rawness of it all. I am learning to trust again. To be vulnerable. To let the world see me as l am, broken and healing.

Here, in the dirt, in the dust, in the beauty of imperfection, I am finding something real.

The world is brighter here, more vibrant. It is messy, full of pain, yes, but also full of joy.

There is more color here than in the sterile white light I once chased.

I was once a free bird who thought I needed to be far away to be happy, to be safe. But then I crashed. And now, I have found my home.

It's okay to fall. It's okay to break. It's okay to lie on the ground and feel the weight of it all. There is no shame in it. Because from the ground, we learn to walk. And sometimes, walking is more beautiful than flying.