Ripping the roots of my seed — I had to feel every dry season that tried to bury me.
I had to learn that growth don’t always start with water, sometimes it starts with pain.
What I thought was loss was really pruning. What I thought was silence was just soil reshaping itself around my purpose.

Every word I speak now, carries the weight of what I refused to let die.
I’m not just regrowing — I’m remembering.

The drought was never punishment. It was preparation.

So if my voice sound deeper now, or my energy feel different, know it’s because I watered myself with truth — and let the roots decide which direction freedom grows.

TRENCHO