There are wounds I would not trade for peace. Fire made me fluent.
I vow to let pain refine me, not define me. To turn the smoke into signal. To feel fully, even when it scorches. To hold what hurt, long enough to learn. To walk forward still burning, but not consumed.
I vow to be kind to my past selves, even the ones who ran into the fire. Even the ones who stayed too long. Even the ones who lit the match. They believed in love — and that is holy.
I vow to let my healing be visible. To shine not as someone whole, but as someone honest. May my scars be invitations, not explanations. May my fire light the path behind me.