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Monica Hudson

Updated: Sat, 4 Jan 2025 04:51 am

fourmonnie39@gmail.com

fourmonnie39@yahoo.com

@monicahudson5394

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Biography

My name is Monica Hudson. I'm a wife of 34 years to my childhood sweetheart and a proud mother of three incredible adult children: two daughters and one son. I also have three beautiful granddaughters who bring endless joy to my life. My family is the centre of my world, and I cherish every moment we spend together. Outside of work and family, I enjoy vacationing with loved ones, reading, listening to music because it soothes my soul, shopping, watching a good movie, binge-watching my favourite TV shows and writing in my quiet time. I just graduated in November 2024 with an MA in English and Creative Writing in the hopes of turning into a career as a writer/author and mentor. As a new writer, my works are mainly exposed on, Facebook, work, and a few associations I relate to. My Story is that women often struggle daily with self-love, inner strength, and self-worth. When in doubt, never count yourself out. Rise like a Phoenix. For many years, this woman has often stared in the bathroom mirror and wondered who the person was looking back at her. Yes, she sees herself, but blinded by the blank steer back, this woman has no idea who she is outside of being a wife, mother, grandmother, daughter and sister. She often talks to the person staring back at her, but the woman in the mirror looking back at her feels a mountain of pain, and the trauma of her childhood only leaves a cracked mirror that hides the real and creative woman that she is. This woman is me. The only difference between the woman physically looking in the mirror and the woman staring back is that she knows she has human flaws and battle scars from a childhood trauma that still haunts her today. I'm trying my best to realise that I'm a beautiful and wonderfully made person and finding contentment within versus comparing myself to what I feel others think of me and letting go of the unconscious need to please others to fill the void that is missing within myself due to the dying feeling of being unloved that has been felt since the age of five. I lack the trust to lean on my family, friends, or spouse because I fear what they will think about me. Walking the path alone is far more accessible than expressing my raw emotions, which have become easier to hide behind in my work and the darkness of night. My strength lies in my faith that God is always present to listen, heal, and love me unconditionally beyond any human being. But, I'm putting myself out there and exposing my true voice to the world today.

THE RISE FROM ASHES

Left alone in a back bedroom with no way of escape. Tip-toeing down the squeaking and creaking wooden steps They go. Shushing and peeping. Not to wake those sleeping. Pitter-pattering feet and unattended little souls. Set out on an exploratory mission. In the darkness of night, silence and curiosity set a fiery blaze. Too young to understand the scope Of picking up a torturous wand. Was it the fascination of seeing a small flamelight? They often saw grown-ups do this. The flame is burning, Which quickly scorches the girl’s finger. The slight burn on the finger was enough to spark fear. Everything is black. A sister’s history darkened, And haunted by her sweet brother’s memory. What happened on that ill-fated night? Was it the torturous wand Or an electrical disaster, the fire chief later ruled. Chard, like the sooty black plaster that remains. Her mind clings to this home inferno. Because of the pain of losing a little brother. It is like that roaring flame, Crying to be watered out. Can you save me from heaven, my precious baby brother? Longing for this shattered glass of a heart, To let you RIP. The place where God loves you best. Forgiveness seeks your untimely death. This was not her fault, just a horrible accident. Damit, why can’t she let go of all the guilt The guilt is a cancer eating away at her shattered heart, A heart with plenty of love to give. Only if she can forgive and love herself first, Freeing this little girl, the big sister who wants to believe. She is free. Yes, her innocence was lost that day, Too. But you, big sis, were able to Rise from Ashes, To tell my story so that. I can rest in eternal peace.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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