HEALING WITH EXPRESSIVE ART 

No One Walks Alone

POETRY  by 

Paloma Fernandes 

(8/28/25)

Carried from 

Angel’s MacEachern 

own writing into poetry — 

her truth and voice living in these lines (May 13, 2025)

No One Walks Alone

I was thirteen,

already carrying scars no one could see.

Drugs became my silence,

my way to pretend I was older, stronger,

when really I was just a kid trying to breathe.

By eighteen I was a mother,

by twenty I was trapped in abuse.

I loved my kids,

but addiction stole me from them—

there’s a difference between being there

and being present,

and I wasn’t present.

Prison doors slammed at thirty-nine.

Four years inside.

I came out and heroin was waiting—

cheaper than pills, easier to find,

deadlier than anything I’d ever known.

My life turned trap house to trap house,

probation papers,

homeless nights.

Alive, but barely.

2018—first overdose.

I survived.

December 1st—second overdose.

This time, I didn’t wake up.

Doctors pulled me back.

Then came the call:

“If you want to say goodbye to your mother,

you better come now.”

I had five hundred dollars of dope in my pocket.

I rolled the window down,

threw it into the dark.

My mother’s only wish was that I would live free.

January 24th, 2019—

my recovery date.

January 26th—

my mother gone.

I couldn’t make her proud in life,

but I swore I would in death.

Recovery wasn’t straight.

I went back to prison,

but this time substance-free,

raw, exposed,

no shortcuts to hide behind.

Hardest thing I ever did.

But it was the beginning.

Medication Assisted Treatment gave me stability.

MARA gave me community.

Together they didn’t just keep me alive—

they gave me life.

People say MAT is just another drug.

I say: it’s the reason I’m standing here.

It’s treatment.

It’s recovery.

It’s survival.

Now I walk into detoxes,

sober homes,

prisons,

and I tell the truth.

Not one-size-fits-all.

Not shame.

Not silence.

My mission is clear:

to end the stigma.

To make sure no one walks alone.