Serin Alar

02/05/2026

A tribute to the beauty of women - gentle yet unbreakable, radiant yet deeply rooted. Each face carries a story of love, endurance, and grace, like light flowing through the veins of the earth. Their presence is poetry, their spirit a living harmony between heart, nature, and sky. 🧡

01/19/2026

River Lullaby 🧡

River Lullaby

She drifts where the water breathes slowly,
the moon resting like a blessing on her chest.
The river remembers her weight,
and carries her as a mother carries sleep.

Hush now, sings the current,
I know the names of your wounds.
It smooths the sharp edges of memory,
rocks them into stones, then into sand.

The river wraps her in cool hands,
washing away the dust of old sorrow.
Each ripple says you survived,
each reflection answers you are safe.

And as she floats, the night grows gentle.
The river hums the oldest song
You belong to the moving world,
and the moving world will not harm you.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/12/2026

"The Gift of the Great Bison"

Long ago, when the world was still young and the people were hungry, the land grew silent.
The rivers thinned.
The winds wandered.
The earth held its breath.

The people prayed, but no answer came.

One night, beneath the full moon, the ground began to shake - but not in anger.
From the northern sky, through mist and dream, came the Great Bison.

His body was vast as mountains.
His breath carried the scent of grass long forgotten.
His eyes shone with the wisdom of a thousand winters.

The people watched in awe as he walked the plains, his hooves planting life into the soil.
Where he stepped, rivers returned.
Where his shadow passed, grass grew tall and green.
Where he rested, animals gathered.

The Great Bison turned to the people and spoke, his voice deep as thunder yet gentle as rain:

"I give myself to you.
My flesh will feed your bodies.
My hide will shield your homes.
My bones will craft your tools.
But honor me - take only what you need.
And always give thanks."

Then, as dawn broke, he vanished into the horizon, leaving his children, the bison herds, behind to walk the earth forever.

Since that day, the people have never forgotten.
Each hunt began with a prayer.
Each feast ended with gratitude.
And every bison that roamed carried the spirit of the Great One, who gave himself so that life would continue.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/12/2026

The Dream Beneath My Feathers

I perch upon your shoulder
and feel the world breathe through you.
Your silence speaks more
than all my wings have ever known.

If I were human, like you,
I would name the wind aloud,
tell the sky where it hurts,
and thank the earth with words.

I would learn the curve of a smile,
how it opens the heart
without taking flight,
how it stays.

I would dance the old dances,
feet remembering what blood never forgot,
moving in circles older than fire,
older than fear.

I would sing the songs of our ancestors,
not just echo them through the trees,
but carry them in my chest,
where grief and joy share one drum.

But I am only a bird
my prayers stitched into feathers,
my longing carried skyward
where no one answers back.

So I stay beside you,
borrowing your warmth,
dreaming your dreams for a moment,
and singing
as close to human
as my heart will ever be.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/11/2026

The Legend Beneath the Water’s Skin

They say she was born of the river’s breath,
A daughter of moonlight and rain,
Where echoes of ancient footsteps rest,
And spirits still whisper her name.

With turquoise beads like fallen stars,
And feathers kissed by the dawn,
She walks the line between worlds afar
Between the living and those long gone.

Golden fish guard the secrets kept,
In waters older than flame,
Their shimmering scales - like stories swept
In currents that never stay the same.

She gathers each ripple, each sorrow dropped,
By hearts that wandered astray,
And carries them softly, where time has stopped,
So the river can wash them away.

They speak of her healing - her voice of the sea,
How storms bow low to her call,
How broken souls find their way to be free,
Where her shadow dances on water’s wall.

Some say she is myth, woven only in dreams,
A tale told by elders at night
But the river remembers; the river still gleams
In the glow of her lingering light.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/11/2026

Wrapped in My Silence

Hush now, little one
the forest still remembers
how to breathe with us.

Your heartbeat is a trembling drum,
but mine will cover it.
Your fear
a leaf in the wind
I will catch it before it falls.

No harm will touch you here.
The spirits walk in circles
around our warmth.
They whisper your name
in the tongue of rivers and rain.

Come closer,
rest your small soul against mine.
I am not your master
I am your sister.
We both were born
from the same wild light
that lives in the eyes of dawn.

Sleep, little one.
The world is cruel beyond the trees,
but here
under my wings of earth
you are home.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/10/2026

Lullaby of the First Land

Sleep now, child of breathing earth,
the river remembers your name.
It flowed from the ribs of mountains,
carrying moonlight in its palms.

Sleep now, where stones once dreamed,
where fire learned to be gentle.
The wind will guard your footsteps,
the night will braid your hair.

Hush now, listen deeply
the land is singing you home.
Every root knows your heartbeat,
every star knows your face.

Sleep now, until morning returns.
You are held by ancient hands.
You are carried by old songs
that never forgot you.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/10/2026

A Soft Goodbye to the Sea

Tonight, I speak softly,
so waves will not interrupt
what my heart remembers.

You rest beside me,
eyes holding ancient water,
patient as untold years.

I tell you my longing
has no chains for you,
only blessings folded in fear.

When the tide calls your name,
do not hesitate for me.
Freedom must never wait.

Swim where light deepens,
where no hands can claim you,
where silence teaches strength.

Guard your shell with wisdom,
not every touch is kindness,
not every shore is safe.

If storms bruise your journey,
turn your face to the moon
she knows your way home.

I will keep my missing
like a quiet lantern,
warm, but not demanding.

Go now, beloved traveler,
carry my hope in your wake.
Be wild. Be careful. Be free.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/09/2026

“The Legend of the White Heron Maiden”

They say she was born
from the hush between sky and water
a maiden whose pulse
beat in rhythm with the wings of herons.

When she walked,
the reeds bowed their slender backs,
and when she closed her eyes,
the rivers remembered their first song.

Herons gathered around her,
their white feathers glowing
like fragments of the moon
that had fallen just to keep her company.

Some whispered she was a bridge
between worlds
a spirit who taught the wind to listen
and the lakes to dream.

Others said she was once human,
a girl who offered her voice to the sky
so the herons would never lose their way.
In return, they lifted her burdens
and crowned her with quiet grace.

Now, whenever a heron passes overhead,
people look up and murmur:
“There she goes
the White Heron Maiden
guiding the lost,
guarding the light
between earth and heaven.”

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/09/2026

“When the Wind Remembers My Name”

I close my eyes,
and the earth hums beneath my skin
the song of rivers winding through bone,
the whisper of mountains resting in my chest.

The wind carries stories older than words,
it tangles gently in my hair,
telling me that I am still her child
born of soil, breath, and flame.

I hear the river’s slow heartbeat,
the rhythm my ancestors once walked to.
Their shadows drift with the water,
their prayers bloom between each ripple.

Mother Earth holds me
in her endless arms of dusk and dawn.
Even in silence,
I am home.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/08/2026

"In the Eyes of My Horse"

In the eyes of my horse, I see more than just a reflection of myself. His gaze holds the weight of the journey we've shared - the silent days, the long trails, and the moments when we both pushed through the hardest miles.

There is something ancient in those eyes, as if he’s seen every step of the path before, as if the land itself speaks to him. He doesn’t need words; he understands the language of the earth, the rhythm of the wind, the pulse of the trail.

In the stillness between us, I find strength. It’s in his steady breathing, in his unwavering trust. When the world feels heavy, I look into his eyes, and I’m reminded - not only of my own resilience but of the quiet power we share, unspoken but always felt.

And with every stride, I realize:
We walk this journey together, not just as rider and horse, but as companions, bound by an unspoken understanding of the road ahead.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn

01/08/2026

What I Tell the White Bear

I know you have no one.
I see it in the way
you listen to the snow
as if it might answer back.

I have lost my people too.
The night took them quietly,
left me holding only
my own breathing.

So stay with me.
Not because we are strong,
but because we understand
how to stand after loss.

If the cold comes again,
I will share my fire.
If fear calls your name,
let it meet mine first.

We are not alone anymore.
We chose each other
and that is enough
to survive the world.

(Art by Serin Alar)

🖊️Poem: Piahn