by Priscilla
These aren’t just tattoos.
They’re chapters on my skin.
Not decoration—
declarations.
Of survival.
Of surrender.
Of sacred becoming.
On my right—
a swan.
I’ve always been that—
graceful, poised, composed.
Gliding through life,
but underneath,
I was paddling through chaos.
Waiting on test results,
waiting on answers,
smiling on the surface
while the storm waged quietly inside.
Still elegant.
Still standing.
Still unseen.
And on my left—
a phoenix.
Born in the fire of illness.
Two years of unknowns,
hospital rooms,
and prayers I whispered alone.
The silence was loud,
but God was louder.
I rose.
Not because they carried me,
but because faith did.
“Still I rise,”
etched not just on my skin
but in my soul.
These tattoos?
They are who I was,
who I am,
and who I will always be—
grace in motion,
fire in recovery,
and now,
fully,
Becoming.
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Welcome — I’m Priscilla Sombe 
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