Rosalind Steed

Boundaries

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

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Where Is the Money?

Where is the money…
What is going on out here…
S**t ain’t funny.

A hundred dollars for a meal or two,
Maybe for me and you.
When you have more than a few,
What are you supposed to do?

Gotta pay rent five times what it was a few years before,I have a feeling I’ll be sleeping on my cousin’s floor.Will the new ones coming up ever own a home with privacy? It’s looking like poverty is all I see.

My pay crept up a little, groceries ran up fast —
five to one they beat me, now my money never lasts.
When you’re trying to feed your family…
Should anybody be judging you?
Everyone out here not knowing what to do.

Go steal and get a few…
But what are the consequences if you do?
Go to jail, hopefully get bail…
But if you had to steal to get a few —
Who truly got you?

So many elderly, lost with nowhere to turn,
prices too high, hunger that burns.
Worked all your life, paid taxes too —
but when you can’t pay no more,
there’s not much support for you.
Some whisper, “jail at the end of life will do,”

When fear is all you see,
fear makes the hungry steal,
the honest kneel.

Pray for me…
I need to feed my family.
I have to know God got me —
because my reality is what I visualize and see.
And know tomorrow brings more than poverty.

by Rosalind P. Steed

Struggling — help is out there.
👉 If you or someone you know needs resources, visit WhenYouGettinOut.com — food, shelter, housing, transportation, clothing, and many other supports across the USA, Canada, and UK.

Me or You

You say what you mean to say,
but it makes no sense —
you’re talking about me,
yet it sounds like you.

It’s like your mind doesn’t know
what to say or do,
so you project onto me
like you know it’s true.

Maybe it’s only clear
when you look at me,
but the mirror speaks louder
when you refuse to look at you.

You throw your shadows out,
but they don’t belong to me —
they do to you,
your reflection is the prison,
I’m the one who walks free.

Every word you twist
is a mask you wear in vain.
Projection is your weapon,
but it only shows your pain.

Hopefully your reflection
will come back to you,
and you won’t always be in vain —
truth has a way of breaking through the pain.

by Rosalind P. Steed

I’ve lived under projections that weren’t mine, and I’ve also been a projector myself. Both sides taught me that projection only reveals how we feel about ourselves.

For more poetry, questions, and self‑reflection, join me inside Awakening With Poetry:
https://www.skool.com/awakening-with-poetry-7578

It’s been one year since I published The Devil I Didn’t Meet. The words I heard most often were: ‘I loved it. I couldn’t put it down.’ To a writer, those are the best words anyone could ever say. Truly blessed for every reader who gave my story their time.

The Devil I Didn't Meet The Devil I Didn't Meet