UPLIFT Poetry & Stories

By Brandon Michael - Recited by BhavaniThis is the story of a child who is born with a deep inner knowing, feeling out of place in a world that seems to have forgotten something essential. As she grows, she hides her truth to fit in, but eventually reconnects with others like her—sensitive souls who remember something more real and sacred. Together, they quietly create and share, not to be seen, but to awaken the same remembrance in others who are still looking up, still carrying the song of the sky.
The Child Who Remembered The Sky by Brandon Michael
A story for anyone who never fit inand always knew why.
Once upon a time, though it didn’t feel like time,there was a child who was born already remembering.
She didn’t cry like the others.
Instead, her first breath trembled with a strange silence,like she had expected more.
Not more comfort, not more sound, more realness.
As if she’d just fallen from somewhere sacredand landed in a place that hadn’t remembered itself yet.
She grew up watching everything:the way adults moved like, they’d forgotten they were alive; the way teachers spoke, with words that felt too small for the truths she held; the way other kids laughed about things she couldn’t find funny,not because she was sad, but because she could feelthe edges of the invisible strings pulling them.
And always, there was the sky.
She’d stare up at it for hours,convinced it was saying something.
Not speaking words,but echoing a memoryshe couldn’t quite translate.
At night, she’d whisper to it,not for answers, just to not forget.
When she was older, she tried to become like everyone else.
She got good at pretending,smiling when she wanted to scream,agreeing when she wanted to shake them awake,laughing so they wouldn’t ask why she wasn’t.
But inside,inside,she was still staring at the sky.
She started writing,drawing,dreaming.
And in the quiet of those moments,something miraculous happened.
She remembered that she wasn’t alone.
There were others,scattered like stars across the world,each born with the same ache,each told they were too sensitive, too intense, too weird, too much.
But really, they were too real for a world running on masks.
One day, the child, now grown,met another like her, and they didn’t say much at first.
They didn’t have to.
Because in the stillness between their breath, they both recognized it:
The sky was alive inside them.
The memory wasn’t a fantasy.They hadn’t been broken.They had been sent.
Now they speak to others, not loudly, not with pride,but with the quiet strength of thosewho have nothing left to prove.
They build things, write truths, make art that cracks open old lies,not to show off, but to remember out loud, so others can feel it too.
So, if you are reading this and something inside you acheslike it’s waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet,it’s not because you’re lost.
It’s because you remember a place where the sky sang back,and you’re still carrying its song.
Not everyone will understand you.
That’s okay.
You weren’t meant for everyone.
You were meant for the ones still looking up,waiting for someone like you to remind themthey are not crazy,they are not broken,they are home.