We’re honored to share this moving poem from a former member of our Olive House CRT program in Los Angeles. Their words beautifully capture the journey of healing, the impact of compassionate care, and the transformative power of our recovery-centered community.

The Haven of Healing
 
In the darkest hour of my weary soul,
When shadows loomed and hope took its toll,
I stumbled upon a place serene,
A refuge nestled where hearts convene.

The doors stood open, arms stretched wide,
A sanctuary where fears subside.
They called it a crisis residential home,
But to me, it became where I’d truly belong.

The walls whispered stories of despair,
Yet woven within was love’s gentle care.
The staff, like beacons in a tempest's roar,
Guided us safely to the shore.

Each clinician, a tapestry of grace,
With wisdom etched upon their face.
They saw beyond the wounds and strife,
Believed in the spark of a brighter life.

"You're not your pain," their voices said,
"You are the dreams that lie ahead."
In their eyes, a compassion so rare,
A quiet promise: we’ll always care.

Group sessions, where words became wings,
Sharing struggles and the joy it brings.
We learned together, we healed as one,
Under the warmth of a rising sun.

They taught us to sit with the weight of the past,
To honor the pain, yet not let it last.
To feel, to process, to let it all go,
To plant the seeds of a life we’d sow.

The clinical staff, with patience divine,
Mapped out paths where stars align.
“Setbacks aren’t endings," they gently said,
“They’re just a pause to rest your head."

Their kindness wove strength in every thread,
Turning despair into hope instead.
Every gesture, every thoughtful word,
Was like music in my soul unheard.

They didn’t just teach; they truly believed,
In the power of lives being reprieved.
Every client, a story yet untold,
Each one is a treasure worth more than gold.

They listened deeply; they saw my truth,
They didn’t judge my fractured youth.
They gave me tools, they gave me light,
To navigate through the endless night.

And in their care, something shifted inside,
A warmth replaced where fear would reside.
I learned to trust, to breathe, to be,
To see a future meant for me.

Oh, how they cared, these hearts so pure,
With every action, they sought to ensure:
We are not broken, we are not lost,
Healing is worth whatever the cost.

And the people beside me, walking this road,
Carried burdens they silently showed.
Together, we built a family anew,
Bound by struggles and the breakthroughs too.

For this place wasn’t just a roof or a bed,
It was where my spirit was quietly fed.
It was where hope was stitched and sewn,
Where I realized I’m never alone.

Now, as I stand on steadier ground,
I look back to where love was found.
A crisis program, yes, by name,
But to me, it’s a light that forever remains.

To the staff, whose hearts refuse to tire,
You fan the flames of life’s fragile fire.
You don’t just work; you live to care,
To guide us through when life feels unfair.

And to the clients who shared the pain,
We walked through the storm and felt the rain.
Yet here we stand, alive, reborn,
With every sunrise, a brand-new morn.

A thousand thank-yous could never suffice,
For showing me love, for being so nice.
For teaching me strength, for showing me how
To live in the present, to cherish the now.

So here’s my ode to this haven of grace,
A timeless memory I’ll never erase.
For in your care, I found my start—
A journey of healing, a mended heart.