Tiffany Chase-Arriagada 4/1/26 Tiffany Chase-Arriagada 4/1/26

“Daughter of the Unseen Fire”

“Daughter of the Unseen Fire” is a visceral meditation on becoming. Selahmon Jones traces the quiet violence of being unseen within the paternal gaze, where silence becomes inheritance and recognition is withheld like breath. Through stark, elemental language, the poem moves from girlhood shaped by absence into a womanhood forged by self-recognition.

What begins as a longing to be witnessed transforms into something far more ancient and unyielding. The speaker releases the need for validation and steps into the lineage of her mothers, reclaiming her voice, her body, and her place in the world. This is not a story of being chosen. It is a declaration of becoming.

A poem rooted in fire, memory, and ancestral knowing, it speaks to every woman who has had to name herself when no one else would.

Primary Keywords

feminine awakening poem
father wound healing poetry
reclaiming feminine power
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ancestral feminine voice
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self identity poem women
feminine rage and rebirth

Secondary Keywords

divine feminine poetry
womanhood transformation poem
inner child healing poetry
breaking generational silence
poetry about being unseen
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“I was never a daughter waiting to be chosen. I was the fire they could not name.”

If you want, I can also turn this into a full IG carousel or TikTok voiceover script that drives traffic straight to your site.

Fix Punctualtion Selahmon Mar 16, 2026, 12:24 AM (11 days ago) to Bruja Tittle -“Daughter of the Unseen Fire” 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇 Before my bones learned language before ink touched the edge of my name there was a house where silence sat in the father’s chair. His eyes were windows that never opened. He spoke of daughters as if we were kitchens as if our hands were meant for soap and surrender. He did not know that stars were hiding in my throat. He did not know the river in my spine had already chosen its own direction. So I grew in the shadows of a man who never once looked up to see the forest rising in his child. And oh— how a daughter will climb mountains for the sound of a father saying I see you. I built temples of effort. I braided poems from thunder. I laid my paintings like offerings at the altar of the world. Still his silence remained a locked door. But time— old grandmother time— placed her wrinkled palm on my shoulder and whispered: Child… You were never meant to shrink yourself until a blind man could recognize the sun. So I gathered my scattered light. I pulled my name from the dust. I stood in the ancient wind of my mothers and understood at last: I was never a daughter waiting to be chosen. I was the fire they could not name. And the world— this wide breathing world— has already begun to see me.

Here’s your poem with punctuation refined while preserving its rhythm, voice, and structure:

Title: “Daughter of the Unseen Fire”

Before my bones learned language,
before ink touched the edge of my name,
there was a house
where silence sat in the father’s chair.

His eyes were windows
that never opened.

He spoke of daughters
as if we were kitchens,
as if our hands were meant
for soap and surrender.

He did not know
that stars were hiding in my throat.
He did not know
the river in my spine
had already chosen its own direction.

So I grew
in the shadows of a man
who never once looked up
to see the forest rising in his child.

And oh,
how a daughter will climb mountains
for the sound of a father saying,
“I see you.”

I built temples of effort.
I braided poems from thunder.
I laid my paintings
like offerings at the altar of the world.

Still,
his silence remained a locked door.

But time,
old grandmother time,
placed her wrinkled palm on my shoulder
and whispered:

“Child…
You were never meant
to shrink yourself
until a blind man could recognize the sun.”

So I gathered my scattered light.
I pulled my name from the dust.
I stood in the ancient wind of my mothers
and understood at last:

I was never a daughter
waiting to be chosen.
I was the fire
they could not name.

And the world,
this wide, breathing world,
has already begun
to see me.

If you want, I can also give you a slightly more editorial version for print while keeping the poetic integrity intact.

“Daughter of the Unseen Fire”

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