Words by Amy Michelle
Poetry • Nature • Reflection
2025-A Year of Firsts
When I came home from the women's treat, I was writing everyday. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was able to really put my feelings down on paper. Not only that, but to see people connecting with my words meant everything to me.
On May 1st, my debut mini poetry collection, Sacred from the Shattered, was released on Amazon in honor of my adopted mom’s birthday — a woman whose steady love continues to shape who I am. This book is a reflection of resilience, of finding divinity in the aftermath, of beauty rising from brokenness.
Then, on May 11th — Mother’s Day, I released my second mini poetry collection, Every Scar, Every Light — a collection stitched from grief and grace—for anyone who has ever carried sorrow in silence. Every Scar, Every Light is a book that reminds us that the cracks in our stories are where the light gets in.
To release both books in the month of May — the month of mothers — was no accident. It was a quiet offering to the woman who shaped me, held me, and sometimes, broke me.
Those books are for her.
And for every version of me who needed them, too.
BeSocial Charlotte | First Open Mic
May 2025
There are moments in a creative journey that quietly divide a life into before and after.
This was one of them.
This evening at BeSocial Charlotte marked the first time I shared spoken word aloud before a live audience — my hands trembling, my heart racing, and my story finally stepping into the light.
I read three deeply personal pieces from my collection Sacred from the Shattered, each tracing part of my journey through trauma, grief, faith, memory, and survival.
Where I Found God explores childhood longing and the unexpected places grace can appear.
Even in the Ragged Things reflects on the memory of a beloved doll named Betsy and the quiet ache loss can leave behind.
Untied Shoelaces is a poem of resilience — learning to keep walking forward, even with trembling hands.
That night reminded me that poetry is not only something written in solitude. Sometimes, it becomes a bridge between wounded hearts — a way of saying:
I survived this too.
Earth & Altar
May 2025 | Debut Literary Publication
Earth & Altar is a blog/magazine for and by Catholic and Reformed Christians of all denominations who see an expansively conceived credal orthodoxy as fully compatible with LGBTQ inclusion, gender equality, and racial justice.
These two poems marked my first official literary publication, and being welcomed by Earth & Altar was deeply meaningful to me.
This digital journal celebrates the sacred intersection of art, spirit, and liturgy—and I am honored that my work found its first home there.
You can read the published pieces below.
"Spilled in Ink and Grace" 5/8/2025
Where the Wildflowers Grow
Poetry Collection
Released June 2025
My debut full poetry collection, Where the Wildflowers Grow, was released on Amazon in June 2025. This book stands as one of my greatest creative achievements.
It is a journey through grief, survival, and quiet reclamation. Within its pages, I trace the contours of pain, the soft strength of those who continue to grow anyway, and the return of light—even after long stretches of darkness.
This collection holds the beginning of my published voice, and the moment my writing stepped fully into the world.
Poetry Pioneer
International Poetry Contest
First Place Winner
Podcast Feature
Town Meeting TV | Vermont NC
The next milestone I reached was a big one!
In April 2025, I entered a global poetry contest through Poetry Pioneer and Arts So Wonderful. The theme was peace. My poem, Where the Quiet Things Grow, was selected as the first-place winner out of more than 800 entries.
It still feels surreal to say that.
My work was later featured on the Arts So Wonderful Podcast and aired on Town Meeting TV in Chittenden County, Vermont—something I never could have imagined when I first began writing in private.
This moment wasn’t just about recognition. It was a reminder that quiet words, written in small, unseen places, can travel farther than we expect.
I’m deeply grateful to Bruce Wilson and Candace Owens for their support, guidance, and belief in my voice. Their encouragement through Arts So Wonderful and Poetry Pioneer opened doors I didn’t even know existed.
Candace, especially, carries a vision rooted in connection and kindness—bringing writers together with a shared purpose: to create, to uplift, and to be human together.
If you’d like to explore their work, you can visit Poetry Pioneer and Arts So Wonderful through their websites
Poetry Pioneer
The Unsealed Letter Finalist
August 2025
In May 2025, I entered a writing contest hosted by The Unsealed—a powerful platform founded by Lauren Brill that helps people write and exchange open letters rooted in truth, strength, and compassion.
I submitted a piece titled “Dear Younger Me: You Will Not Stay Broken.”
This letter was deeply personal—raw, redemptive, and rooted in truth. It poured from the heart of my own healing and was written for anyone still standing in the wreckage, learning how to keep going. It became one of the most honest pieces I’ve ever shared.
In July, I received the incredible news that my letter had been chosen as a finalist.
🖋️ Read My Letter on The Unsealed
As part of the finalist celebration, I was invited to be a guest on The Unsealed’s weekly virtual show on July 9, 2025. I joined several other writers from around the country as we each read our letters, shared our hearts, and lifted one another up through conversation and feedback. The event ran almost an hour longer than usual—but only because so many of us had something to say. And honestly? That felt like a gift.
I was also asked to share a part of my adoption story on the podcast. I felt honored. I feel my story has the potential to help so many others going through something similar.
This entire experience has been a reminder of why I write—to connect, to reflect, and to remind others (and myself) that healing doesn’t silence us—it frees us. Below is a clip of the podcast I was on.
Open Mic-Charlotte Writers Club | Mugs Coffee
Charlotte, NC August 2025
By August of 2025, spoken word no longer felt quite so unfamiliar.
At an open mic hosted by the Charlotte Writers Club at Mugs Coffee, I returned to the microphone carrying new poems, new scars, and a quieter kind of courage. What once felt terrifying was slowly becoming part of my voice.
During this set, I shared three spoken word pieces drawn from themes of grief, memory, resilience, and hope — words shaped first in solitude, then spoken aloud into a room filled with listening hearts.
There is something sacred about spoken word that continues to surprise me. A poem written quietly at a desk becomes something entirely different once it is carried by breath, voice, and trembling hands.
The experience reminded me again that poetry is not only meant to be read. Sometimes it is meant to be heard — alive and unhidden.
A Place on the Shelf
Park Roads Books
Where the Wildflowers Grow
On August 18, 2025, for the first time, my words found a home on a bookstore shelf. Park Road Books, Charlotte’s beloved independent bookstore, welcomed Where the Wildflowers Grow into their poetry section.
Nestled among other local authors and voices that have shaped me, my book now waits quietly for strangers who might one day call my words their own. This moment is not just placement — it is belonging, a dream that bloomed from grief into print.
Carolina Author Collection
Charlotte Mecklenburg Library
Where the Wildflowers Grow
August 2025
In August 2025, Where the Wildflowers Grow was accepted into the Carolina Author Collection at Charlotte Mecklenburg Library, becoming part of the library's circulating collection.
Knowing that readers can discover and borrow my book through my local library is a milestone I will always treasure. Libraries have long been places of learning, imagination, and inspiration in my life, making this recognition especially meaningful.
Reserve a Copy at Charlotte Mecklenburg Library
August-October 2025 — The Poetry Lounge
& The Sound of the Collective Pen
In August 2025, I participated in The Poetry Lounge at the Charlotte Book Lovers Expo — an open mic and poetry contest centered around spoken word, storytelling, and emerging voices.
I stepped up to the microphone and read my poem Sunday Serenade, marking one of my first experiences sharing my poetry publicly in a live setting.
Although I did not win the contest, the experience became the beginning of something important.
Later that year, three of my poems were selected for inclusion in The Sound of the Collective Pen: A Poetry Anthology by Emerging Voices through Book Butler Publishing Company:
Sunday Serenade
The Mirror They Threw
Blueprint of My Sky
Looking back now, this event feels like one of the first doors that quietly opened along my writing journey — a reminder that sometimes showing up matters more than winning.
A Quiet Season
October 2025-January 2026
Between October 2025 and January 2026, my public writing life became noticeably quieter.
After spending much of 2025 immersed in writing, publishing, and sharing my work, I found myself facing a deeper season of grief following the loss of my father in October 2024.
In many ways, the second year proved more difficult than the first.
The first year was marked by shock, numbness, and an almost relentless need to keep moving forward. Writing became both an outlet and a refuge. I poured myself into poems, projects, and publications, and for a time that helped me carry what felt impossible to hold.
But grief has a way of changing shape.
As time passed, I reached a point where I could no longer outrun it through productivity alone. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and struggling to recognize myself. While I continued to journal and write privately, I stepped back from sharing my work publicly and allowed myself the space to simply be human.
That quieter season changed me.
It deepened my understanding of grief, healing, faith, and what it means to keep going when there are no easy answers. It also changed my writing. When I began returning to public work in 2026, I found myself drawn not only to poetry, but also to reflections, prose, personal essays, and more direct conversations about loss, resilience, and hope.
Looking back, I no longer see that season as an absence.
It was part of the journey.
Sometimes growth happens in bloom. Sometimes it happens underground.
Both matter.