She didn’t think of herself as a songwriter, just someone who loved music.

At Coffee Creek, she found her way into Open Hearts Open Minds theater and ukulele classes, which helped the days feel a little brighter. She already knew how to play guitar, and when she sang, people listened.

There was something steady and honest in her voice, like she meant every word.

One day, she brought a poem to class. She had written it as a way of dealing with the challenges of a long prison sentence. After sharing the poem, she received much encouragement and positive feedback. One person said, “That’s so good. You could make it into a song.”

She shook her head, saying, “I don’t know how to do that.” It seemed to her that songs belonged to other people. People with more experience, more confidence, more skill. Though she was proficient at guitar and could sing beautifully, she did not consider herself a ‘musician’.

But the idea stayed with her. Later, back in her dorm, she picked up the guitar and began strumming. The melody came slowly at first, then all at once, as if it had been waiting for her to notice it. She followed her own instinct, trusting what felt true, and by the time she finished, she had something new. Something hers.

She brought the song back to class the next week, and her hands trembled as she played. When she finished, there was silence. The silence that happens when a group of people know they have experienced something magical together.

The class decided to include it in their next theater performance. Being alone on stage felt daunting, so she asked a classmate to sing with her. Together, the beauty of their harmonies and the power of her
lyrics came together to fill the room and move audiences.

In the months that followed, she shared it with the choir. A pianist joined in. More voices carried her words. Each time, the song grew—not away from her, but outward from her, like something alive.

It became a favorite. A song others wanted to sing. A song that traveled beyond that first moment of doubt in her dorm room.

She hadn’t just written a song—she had discovered that she could.