Insecurity You weren’t born with insecurities— they were passed on like a disease. A quiet one, spread with subtle ease. Someone mocked you when you were young— you made that agreement, and now you and it are one. Got a hundred degrees, but still don’t feel like you have the expertise. That’s insecurity. Still feel like that child told to be seen, not heard. People‑please to feel secure. Someone told you you weren’t enough. Now you’re not yourself— just the mask you think they want to see. That’s insecurity. Pick yourself and others apart— that’s just the start. Need power over others? Because you have none within. Make someone feel small or blue, ’Cause you never healed you, and now you’ve passed on those insecurities too. We scroll and compare, measure our worth by who might care. But to compare just isn’t fair— we’re all on our own journey here. Would you dare to put your bad times on your timeline? They’re just chasing likes like lifelines. We measure our value in others’ eyes. If they don’t pay your bills— or lay with you at night why would their opinion be in your sight? Rewrite your history, you’ve outgrown who you used to be. Free your spirit, clear your head. Stop the competing, the overthink— you’ll find your peace, and a quiet mind, before you blink. by Rosalind P.Steed

This poem is about a product I invented for baby animals.People always ask me why I thought of it so I made a poem to explain. Always With the Animals Animals were always my friends. When I was alone, they were the ones who stayed. I loved them, and they loved me too. If I wasn’t around animals, I never felt safe. The feeling of fur was the feeling of home. With animals I truly never felt alone. Every allowance I got turned into a goldfish, a hamster, something small to hold tight. And my mom always let me have a cat— she knew animals made my world feel right. I used to sit in the back of the vet clinic, greeting every animal that came through the door with a little pat, wishing I could do even more. I fixed a few broken wings, helped after animal attacks, saved a couple of dogs along the way— but my heart always wanted to give more back. Then came the bottle babies— tiny mouths, tiny cries, one by one by one. So cute, so sweet, but overwhelming when life still had to run. And then a thought rose up in my mind: there has to be a way to feed more than one at a time, to help the people who save the day. I couldn’t let that idea slip away. So here I am with Steed’s Baby Bottle Bed, made for the caregivers who give so much. This is my way of saying I see you, I get it, and I’m right here with you— in heart, in memory, in touch. By Rosalind P. Steed Website: www.steedsbabybottlebed.com

We Must Rise Conflict everywhere, hard to ignore, pain on the screen, and still there is more— so much terror, so much fear, the world feels hopeless, the future unclear. The media makes us casualties too, in wars no one ever wanted to pursue. We wake each day not knowing what we’ll hear, and our minds drift back to the weight of that fear. It’s hard not to carry the ache of it all, hard not to feel like the sky’s about to fall. But pause. Look right here, right now, at the ground beneath our feet. In this moment, we are safe. In this moment, we are free. And all we can do is breathe into that truth, be grateful, be present, let it soften us. Bless the fact that the storm is not at our door, that our lives still hold a beautiful meaning worth fighting for. We must rise— choose love over fear, choose peace over pain, keep choosing humanity again and again. For as long as we’re here, as long as we stay, let our hearts be the light that doesn’t fade. by Rosalind P. Steed

I walked away from heavy ties, from constant chaos, constant cries. From people sinking in their pain, who never tried to rise again. They loved the drama, loved the fight, kept choosing shadows over light. And every time I reached my hand, they pulled me down to where they stand. I gave them peace, I gave them calm, offered my voice like healing balm. But some don’t want the peace you send— they only want the same dead end. I love them all, I truly do, I made so many excuses for all of you. I can’t pull you up if you choose to stay down — because both of us will surely drown. I carried weight that wasn’t mine, felt all their storms invade my mind. Until I learned to step aside, and guard my light I used to provide . So I chose distance, chose quiet moments filled with peace. Not out of anger, but because I needed the release. My boundaries aren’t walls of stone— they’re ways for me to come back home. I didn’t leave from spite or fear. I left to keep my spirit clear. By Rosalind P. Steed Reflective Questions?? What is one boundary your soul has been asking for, but you’ve been afraid to honor? Where have you been giving peace to people who only return chaos? What part of you feels lighter when you imagine stepping back?