Rainbow Prisms from Broken Glass

I came from a place
where safety broke too early.
The glass didn’t just crack—
it shattered.
And yet, from the shards,
light bent,
and colors poured.

Science names it trauma.
I call it
the making of rainbow prisms
from broken glass.

That kind of wound
sharpens a body.
Teaches you to notice
every flicker,
every silence.
Science calls it hypervigilance.
I call it intuition.

They say trauma heightens interoception—
the body’s sense of itself.
I say it turned me into a receiver,
not just of my own signals,
but of yours,
of the plants,
of the room.

In the kitchen,
that gift became medicine.
I can taste a recipe
before the knife hits the board.
Neuroscientists mapped it:
the brain lights up at imagined flavors
the same as the real ones.

So when I stir a pot,
it isn’t just supper.
It’s calming the nervous system
of a whole house.
IBD, psoriasis, PTSD—
science already links them
back to stress and inflammation.

A spoon of lemon balm pesto,
a bowl of broth,
a plate of greens:
they’re more than meals,
they’re rehearsals of homeostasis.

In the garden, I listen.
Biologists would say “sensory integration.”
I say conversation.

Bees circle close.
Moths find my light.
My nervous system speaks safety,
and they hear it.

At the bedside,
as a nurse,
I’ve stood at thresholds.
Textbooks call it co-regulation.
I call it presence.
I breathe,
and someone borrows my calm
for their crossing.

In gatherings,
planning, arranging, designing,
I feel the currents,
shift the room
until harmony appears.

Anthropologists name it kinship healing—
using food, ritual, and space
to restore balance to a family or community.

I just call it
being who I am.

And of course,
I am sister,
momma,
mamaw,
wife,
friend,
dog-momma.
Not titles.
Vessels.
Poured full.

So who am I?
I was forged in fracture,
but I chose weaving.

What began as survival
became intuition.
What became intuition
grew into healing.

And now I tell this story
with humility and honor.

What could be painted in dark colors
I cast in rainbow prisms.
Because it’s all in how you reflect Light.
God. Truth. Source. Spirit.
All the same in my reflection.

What I feel bone-deep
is what I follow.
If the light doesn’t match my intuition,
I let it go.

No matter how great the authority,
no matter the judgment,
I lean into my heart.
And I encourage you—
do the same.

I am
rainbow prisms from broken glass.