For those who keep looking for answers and those who finally muster the courage to ask questions
For those who want to believe in hope and those who feel there is no hope left
For those who are searching for their roots and those who are ready to let go of them
For those who desperately need the light and those who are a light for others even when they are in a dark place
No Roots Attached: Honest Poems for Curious Souls
Some journeys don’t take us around the world.
They take us back to ourselves.
No Roots Attached is a poetry collection about spiritual growth, self-discovery, and learning to trust the quiet voice within. These poems encourage reflection, ask uncomfortable questions, and remind us that sometimes we have to loosen our grip on certainty before we can truly grow.
Through quiet reflections, honest questions, and moments of unexpected clarity, these poems invite you inward—to begin a conversation with yourself. They explore identity, healing, spirituality, belonging, and the courage it takes to let go of who you thought you had to be.
This is an invitation to pause, to listen, and perhaps to remember the person you’ve always been beneath the noise.
For anyone searching for meaning, belonging, or simply a moment of stillness.
Some roots hold us in place.
Others keep us from growing.
No Roots Attached releases on October 30, 2026. It will be available in ebook, paperback, and hardcover formats, and will be included in Kindle Unlimited.
If people remembered that kindness matters. If they had an ability to swap places with others and feel what they feel. That would be a game changer, wouldn’t it?
If people remembered that it’s not about the money. That the times when people proudly packed all their possessions to accompany them into their graves are long gone. None of it will matter when you take your last breath.
If people remembered life isn’t a power struggle. You’re not here to prove anything to anyone, to impress, to compete, to win. Each and every one of us is on their own journey. Live and let live.
If people realized we’re all different, and it’s not just okay, it’s actually amazing. That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. That’s the beauty of humanity. We’re all made of the same energy, regardless of what we look like on the outside.
If people remembered that tomorrow’s never promised. And that you don’t get a refund for today if it wasn’t to your liking. There’s no pause button. There’s no rewind option.
If people remembered that love isn’t something you get — it’s something you give, first of all. Love attracts love. If there’s no love inside you, it won’t magically appear on the outside. And it starts with loving yourself.
If people remembered that words have power. Words can heal and they can kill. And once the damage has been done, it can’t be easily erased. Words matter and should be used with wisdom and caution.
If people noticed the little things. If they opened their hearts to the beauty hidden in the fleeting moments, and focused on that instead of all the worries, grievances, and disappointments.
If people learned to listen. Really listen. With empathy and compassion and understanding. Instead of judging or waiting for the best moment to interrupt and jump in with their own opinion.
If people learned responsibility. If they remembered their words and actions always have consequences. And it’s usually better to prevent than to fix.
If people remembered that life is short and that while we’re all on our own journeys, we still happen to be on this planet together at the same time, so should we really make coexisting that hard? No one really benefits from that, at the end of the day. And if they think they do, they’re just really lost and confused, poor souls.
If anyone told me a year or two ago that I would be publishing a poetry collection, I’d find it hard to believe.
Since I started writing four years ago, I’ve always had several works in progress. I was working on my fantasy trilogy, writing short stories in between novels (for different anthologies and for my own short story collection), and even started learning screenwriting.
I think the first poem came out of nowhere when I was feeling overwhelmed with my teenage son going away for a month and a half. Writing my feelings down was sort of therapeutic. Back then, I just left those words in a note on my phone, not knowing that it was the moment a new door opened for me. Or, rather, for my words—in poetry form.
I often say that poems pretty much write themselves, and it’s true. They either come or they don’t. I never sit there thinking, “I should write a poem. What will it be about?” No, the words just appear in my head and insist on being written down.
As more and more poems poured out, I started putting them all together into a collection (as well as sharing them on social media and here on my blog).
They’re all different. Some short, some long. Some dark and raw, others uplifting and inspirational.
One thing they all have in common is that they come from the depths of my soul. From looking inward and trying to understand myself and this world.
That’s why I decided to call this book Reflections.
I’m beyond anxious to share this collection with the world, to be honest. I have never considered myself a poet. All the words — as imperfect as they may be — are genuine and heartfelt. And it’s a scary thing, serving your heart on a plate for everyone’s judgement.
But I dare hope that apart from judgement my words will find a different kind of connection with the reader. One where they make you feel something. Where they inspire you to look inside, and ask questions, and seek answers. Where they inspire reflections of your own.
Below is the back cover blurb for Reflections. It releases on November 30, 2024, and is currently available for preorder on Amazon.
If you decide to give my little book a chance, thank you from the bottom of my heart and I truly hope you enjoy it.
Who do you see when you look in the mirror?
A friend? An enemy? A stranger?
Have you ever truly stopped to look into those eyes—not a rushed glance, but a long, deep, searching gaze? They say eyes are the windows to the soul. What do you see in yours? Light or darkness? Hope or despair? Pain, anger, joy, or love?
Perhaps it’s a little of everything. Inside each of us is a vast, unexplored universe—a fascinating, complex world that often feels too scary to confront. But if you find the courage to dive in, to truly look inside, you might discover something you’ve been searching for all along, perhaps without even realizing it.
You might discover yourself.
Reflections is a poetry collection that invites you on a journey of self-discovery, encouraging you to look inward with open eyes. Through raw, honest verse, this book will be your companion as you explore the depths of your soul and meet the person waiting to be found.
I’m watching my little son as he sleeps. Marveling at this miracle we’ve created. Trying to wrap my head around how perfect he is. And how this perfect human being came from inside me.
It’s such a strange season of my life. My youngest turns 5 next month. And no matter how cliche it sounds, these years just flew by in the blink of an eye. They really did. There was a lot that happened in these five years, of course. There was a whole pandemic that turned the world upside down. There was a start of my writing career that turned my life upside down. There were struggles, adventures, learning curves, moments of joy. Tears and laughter, hellos and goodbyes. Everything you could imagine. And yet, I look at this little angel (aren’t they all angels when they sleep?) and wonder—when did this happen?
I’m about to book a one-way flight to another country for my eldest son. He’s 18. He’s got a life of his own and rarely finds time for me. And he’s getting ready to embark on a journey of a lifetime, going abroad to study.
For a year, to start with.
Although he’s planning to stay longer. Okay, in fact, he’s not planning to return.
Which is a good thing, of course. We can never truly go back, we can only move forward. Besides, every journey, every smallest trip we take always cause irrevocable change inside us. You just can’t come back as the same person.
I know it. And I love it.
When it comes to my journeys.
But as I plan for my young adult’s departure, I realize that those eighteen years also flashed by. My little baby is not a baby anymore. And I have no idea how it happened.
Years.
Decades.
I’ve been building my life.
And a life for my kids.
Rebuilding it.
Sometimes from scratch.
Making decisions.
Going places.
Changing directions.
Countries, cities, homes, identities.
Am I even me anymore?
Who was me, anyway, and does it even matter, if I’m not her?
Who am I now, and who will I be next year?
I’m just someone who finds herself in a funny time.
Turned 45.
Published my 4th book.
Got my 1st tattoo.
Celebrated my mom’s 80th birthday.
Choosing a cake for my son’s 5th birthday.
Hoping my other son can come home for his Christmas break to celebrate his 19th.
Numbers.
They don’t define anything, yet they carry so much weight. We always rely on numbers, don’t we? They scare us but also ground us at the same time. As if they’re something we can desperately hold onto in this whirlwind of a life.
Except we can’t. Because numbers tend to change. They never stay the same. Because this is how time works.
An old lady in the street was selling cherry tomatoes and figs from her own garden. They looked nice, and I decided to get some. Besides, I figured it would be a good deed since she had to sit there in the August heat on a tiny, uncomfortable chair.
I ended up paying much more than I would had I bought them at the marketplace or on a supermarket. Not sure if she did it on purpose. I suspect she did, because she kept telling me different prices and didn’t even weigh the fruit like she did for the previous customer. So I left with a bit of an unpleasant feeling. Like when you want to do something good but people take advantage of you.
But then I sat on a bench, while waiting for my son’s daycare to finish, took out a fresh fig from the bag and just ate it right there and then. It was delicious.
And I thought to myself, it doesn’t really matter, does it? The fact that I overpaid. The fact that she shortchanged me. What matters is I had the right intention, and the result was worth it too.
So instead of spending the rest of my day feeling hard done by and reminding myself that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I figured I’d just enjoy the taste of a fresh fig.
And as soon as I took that decision, my day got a whole lot better.
