💜

I Rise.

April—the month my world went silent,
laughter stolen, love torn from my grasp.
The embrace of my parents and two siblings—
now a memory I hold but can never touch.

April 1994 did not just take them;
it tried to take me too—
my voice, my light, my innocence, my will to exist.
Darkness swallowed my paradise,
grief clung like a shadow,
but even then, something within refused to fade.

So I Rise.

Not only on April 7th for my little sister Marie Claudine,
or April 17th for Papa,
or April 24th for Mama and my big brother Jean Félix—
I Rise every day.

I rise for forgiveness—I do it for me.
I rise for love; hatred is too heavy a burden to bear.

I rise for my parents’ three surviving gifts,
my first rays of sunshine, whose existence gave my life meaning.

I rise for the little loves they blossomed, —my precious pearls—
treasures my parents never got to hold, spoil or adore.
I rise for their other halves, who cherish and are deeply cherished.

I rise for the scars I bear— a testament to survival.
I rise for the journey I have walked.
For the life I built far from home,
Rooted in love, standing on solid ground.

I rise for the child I once was—
orphaned, lost, abandoned, poor.
Now, a proof that hope survives.

I rise beyond trauma, beyond nightmares.
My story is no longer just my own.
I rise for the children who walk the road I once did,
for those unseen, unheard, alone.

Rising Above the Storms, a whisper:
“You are not alone, your pain does not define you. You are seen, you are worthy, you too can rise.”

I carry wounds neither time nor any human can heal,
yet still, I rise—undefeated.
When strength fails, faith lifts me.
And one day, beyond sorrow,
I will see and hold them again—forever.

For my light that dimmed in April 1994—
I am Here. I Remember. I Grieve. I Speak. I Forgive. I Hope. I Love.

31 Years.

Still. I Rise.

💜

🕊️💜 In loving memory of my four angels perished during the Genocide against the Tutsi in April 1994. May their memories remain a blessing.❤️ 🕊️