Hi, my name is Adena

A Spoken Word Poem on Self-Healing and Love

Hi,

my name is Adena…

You’ve been broken, Adena. You weren’t even aware of it—

not at first,

not when silence became your second skin,

not when laughter sounded borrowed,

not when trust felt like a stranger’s accent.

Memories are a funny thing.

They come like shadows,

stretching long across the floor

when the sun begins to set.

They slip into the room

when you’re not looking—

a smell, a sound,

a touch of air too heavy to name.

And—

here you are, Adena.

Still breathing.

Still searching the sky

for shapes in the clouds.

Still learning to call the cracks in your soul

something other than weakness.

You see, broken doesn’t mean ruined.

Broken means you’ve survived the fall

and carried every shard back home.

Broken means you’ve rebuilt yourself

in the image of courage,

one trembling piece at a time.

Love—

not the kind written in sonnets,

but the kind that sarts

with your own reflection—

is teaching you patience.

It says: Sit with yourself.

Hold your own hand.

Say your own name like it’s holy.

Hi, my name is Adena.

And I forgive you

for every time you forgot your worth.

I honor you

for every time you stood back up.

I love you

for being the woman

who still dares to hope.

Memories are a funny thing—

but healing is funnier still.

Because one day,

the same memory that once broke you

becomes proof:

You made it through.

You are still here.

You are still you.

Hi,

my name is Adena.

And I am learning, finally,

to love me.