I have fallen in ways that don’t make noise — quiet collapses, private crumblings, the kind you only admit to yourself when the room is dark and the world has stopped watching.
I have counted the falls until the numbers blurred, until the ground felt familiar, until I wondered if rising was a story meant for someone else.But something in me — small, stubborn, sacred — keeps tugging at my ribs, whispering, “Not here. Not like this.”
So I gather myself, piece by trembling piece, and rise again — not because I never broke, but because breaking never had the final word.Every fall has taught me a new way to stand. Every bruise has mapped a new direction home.
Every time I thought I was done, my spirit said, “Try again. One more lift.”And so I rise — not flawless, not untouched, but undefeated.Because falling is human. But getting back up — that’s where the miracle lives.—
Mix Season
This time of year
has a way of stirring everything at once —
the soft glow of what’s beautiful,
the sharp edge of what’s missing,
the quiet hum of gratitude,
the sudden ache of memory.
It’s the season where joy
sits beside exhaustion,
where hope and heaviness
share the same breath,
where you can laugh in the morning
and feel the weight of the year
by afternoon.
There’s love here —
in the small rituals,
in the familiar lights,
in the way the world slows down
just enough for you to hear
your own heart speaking.
But there’s also the truth
that not every chapter closed cleanly,
not every dream survived the year,
not every wound healed on schedule.
Still, you stand in the doorway
of another December,
holding all of it —
the light, the shadow,
the gratitude, the grief —
and somehow you make room
for every feeling
without letting any of them
take you under.
This is the season of being human
in all its layers.
Of knowing you’ve carried so much
and still found ways to rise.
Of letting the year end
without pretending it was easy,
and letting the new one come
without demanding perfection.
Mixed feelings don’t mean you’re lost.
They mean you’re alive,
awake,
and honest enough
to feel the whole truth of your journey.
If this resonates with you, share your own story or feelings about this season in the comments — your voice might be the reminder someone else needs.
Copyright Page
© 2025 Kamika Peart Manning. All rights reserved.
No part of this poem may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.
“The Poetic Lift Still Rising” and all associated creative works are the intellectual property of Kamika Peart Manning.
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