Behind My Smile

Behind My Smile

(from Behind the Smile)

Behind my smile you will travel on the winding roads of my doubts

which have always delayed, but never stopped my progress.

You will climb the immense mountain ranges of my adversity,

and marvel at the scenic views they create,

or you will turn away, and try to walk around the challenge—

because to be honest, I’ve done both.

You will sail on the vast oceans of my heart,

passing the rolling hills of red violets and

endless valleys of blue roses

as you feel the gentle push and pull of my love,

but you’ll also experience the storms of my heartbreak,

and be hit by the quiet, yet fierce breeze of my lust.

Behind my smile you will soar on the

wings of my faith

and feel the

embrace

of my freedom.

But if you look closely you’ll see…I’m missing some feathers.

And I have some unhealed scars.

And one of my wings is broken.

You will witness my struggle

to maintain my altitude, and

with my faith and His strength, I will.

Prayerfully.

When you look behind my smile you will

discover the complexities of my story and

take a journey through my life

and maybe, you’ll be able to understand

Me.

Behind the Poem

Behind My Smile came from recognizing how often people mistake composure for completeness. And if I’m being honest—I’m people.

I wrote this poem during one of the darkest seasons of my life. I had just been fired from my first job out of college, and what I thought would be a brief setback stretched into thirteen months of unemployment. Month after month of rejection. Silence. Waiting. Wondering.

During that time, I lost more than a job. I lost confidence. I lost hope. I lost my sense of direction.

Eventually, I took a position outside of my industry and accepted a pay cut just to survive. And somewhere in that season, I started to believe I was getting what I deserved. That this was the cost of whatever mistakes I had made. That maybe this version of my life was the truest reflection of my worth.

Most people didn’t know any of this was happening because I kept smiling.

I still showed up strong. I still moved forward. I still looked composed on the outside—even while navigating doubt, heartbreak, and storms that never made it to the surface. But strength, I learned, doesn’t mean untouched. Faith doesn’t mean unbroken. And growth doesn’t mean there aren’t delays along the way.

That’s why this poem moves through landscapes—roads, mountains, oceans, wings. I needed space. Space to hold contradictions. Space to admit that sometimes I climb, and sometimes I look for a way around. That love can feel like a gentle current one moment and a violent storm the next.

The broken wing matters to me. So do the missing feathers. They’re proof that flight isn’t effortless—and that staying airborne is often an act of prayer. At the time, I didn’t realize how much I needed to give myself permission to stop trying to be perfect and simply keep going.

And if, after reading it, you recognize pieces of your own hidden struggle in mine, then this poem—and this book—have done what I hoped they would do.