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Alayna Doyal
writer | editor | poet | all things personal development ↠ alaynadoyal.com

a remind that you’re faultless for being fatherless ♡

Photo by Thomas Vimare on Unsplash

Let me remind you that you’re faultless for being fatherless, which is to say you are not to blame.

Father’s Day was always Mother’s Day 2.0 in my mama’s household. Of course, a man sure did contribute to the creation process that resulted in my arrival into the world, but reproductive cells aside, I’m the outcome of one person’s influence. In other words, I was raised under the roof of a single-parent home.

For the sake of transparency, I cannot relate to anyone who has ached at the realization that they…


a poem about taking your time. we’re all on our own paths.

Photo by Thomas Bormans on Unsplash

i want to be where i see everyone else go.

i’m taking leaps to get there but

there are hurdles that i must

overcome first.

but i don’t mean hurdles in the sense

of obstacles that make me stronger.

i’m talking tree stumps that act as

benchmarks on my path to

becoming softer.

i suppose it’s more suitable

to refer to what i’m doing

as reverting rather than

becoming

because i became unrecognizable

in the game called survival

where blending in kept me safer

than standing out.

others…


a poem about how we cannot control what life deals us but our reactions are pawns we play.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

the pictures on the wall fell down

and i refuse to put them back up.

i have always welcomed change

because it hurts more than it heals

but i’ve been viewing it all wrong.

i’m ready to invite disarray my way

without assuming the chaos is bad.

we cannot control what life deals us

but our reactions are pawns we play.

energy never dissipates completely

so even when those we love go away

the truth is that they are still here —


And I’m viewing angel numbers as my spirit guides.

Photo by Brett Ritchie on Unsplash

Statistically speaking, my single-parent mom died too early.

She passed away twenty-six days shy of her sixty-first birthday.

On average, women in America live to be somewhere around eighty-one years of age.

But she was nowhere near average—rather, far above it—so I suppose my assumption that her trajectory would abide by that of a medium death rate is where my insight was flawed.

Anyway, I’ve always been drawn to numbers.

Kinda sorta fixated on them, if you will.

I can spot patterns and numerical synchronicities as though I’m the real-life version…


a poem inspired by a lyric.

Photo by Daniel Páscoa on Unsplash

i’m listening to an artist sing the lyrical line,

“life’s better when there’s someone to

show you how” and i’m reminded

that there is no longer anyone

to show me how.

the problem with the status quo

is that it dupes us into subscribing

to a set standard of how life goes.

we come to trust the fact that our parents

will be here for us until we are old like them,

but i’m learning that this storyline is a work of

fiction because i am only in my twenties

yet i parent myself…

Alayna Doyal

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