What the Forest Keeps
“The trees do not ask permission to grow toward the light. Neither, anymore, do I.”
Poems of identity, healing, and sacred truths — written with lyrical grace that gets in your face.
Kiki Palace · Art by Natalie Eve Marquis
Signed copies ship directly from Kiki.
And the rooms they were written in.
“The trees do not ask permission to grow toward the light. Neither, anymore, do I.”
“We grieve things we never lived through — grief passed down like heirlooms, stitched into the body before we were born.”
“The sacred is not hidden in the extraordinary — it is pressed into the folds of Tuesday, waiting for you to notice.”
Poems are written for the ear first.
Kiki Palace writes about the things we inherit and the things we set down. Echoes of an Unveiled Soul is her first collection — poems of identity, ancestral grief, the natural world, and the kind of healing that doesn’t arrive politely.
“We rise together or we don’t rise at all.”
Dog chew toys knotted by hand from brand-new socks. Every one is different, because every dog is.
See themMasterpiece paintings reimagined as street art, printed on tees. Not ready yet — leave an email below and be first to know.
Join the listAn occasional note from Kiki when there’s something worth sending — a new piece, a reading, a shop opening.
No spam, ever. Unsubscribe any time.