She wore darkness well.
Not as a cloak to hide beneath,
nor armor forged from bitterness,
but as velvet midnight
woven from lessons learned
beneath moonless skies,
where every unanswered question
became a thread in her becoming
and every difficult season
left its quiet mark upon her heart.
She knew the language of shadows,
had danced with grief,
sat beside heartbreak,
and listened to silence
when it had much to teach.
She had wandered through long nights
when hope felt distant,
learning that endurance
is often a softer thing than courage,
and that healing rarely arrives
all at once.
The darkness did not own her.
It refined her.
It carved wisdom
into the spaces where certainty once lived
and taught her that strength
is not always found in sunlight.
Sometimes it is discovered
in the moments when no one is watching,
when the soul must choose
to keep moving forward
despite the weight it carries.
Some flowers bloom in daylight.
Others unfold beneath the stars.
She became both…
wild as the storm,
gentle as the dawn,
holding light in one hand
and mystery in the other.
She learned to honor
every part of herself:
the radiant and the restless,
the fearless and the fragile,
the woman she had been
and the woman she was still becoming.
For she understood
what many never learn:
The dark is not the enemy.
Sometimes it is the sacred place
where the soul remembers
its own power.
Sometimes it is the quiet sanctuary
where old wounds are tended,
where truth rises gently to the surface,
and where resilience takes root
deep enough to withstand any season.
And she wore it well.
Not just beautiful.
Powerful.
Powerful in the way mountains are powerful…
steady, enduring,
shaped by storms yet never diminished.
Powerful because she had faced herself
in the deepest hours
and emerged with compassion
instead of bitterness,
with wisdom instead of fear.
She wore darkness well,
not because it never hurt,
but because she transformed it
into something meaningful.
And in doing so,
she became a light
that could not be extinguished,
a woman who understood
that true strength is not the absence of darkness,
but the grace to carry it
without letting it steal who you are.
Tracey is a native of Northern Michigan.
She has work on Writerscafe and Cosmofunnel. She is also the Author of "Zero Evidence of Life" found on lulu.com.
Her publications include .
The Abyss, Under The Bleachers , The Rye Whiskey Review and The Dope Fiend Daily.
Her latest book For The Love Of Lily is currently available on Amazon.
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