Harmony Haven

Stones That Refused to Forget

They said this place was broken.
But the stones knew otherwise.

First came the hands,
then the tables,
then the garden.
There was no blueprint—
only memory stitched with hope.

Children ran where silence used to sit.
The market didn’t sell food—
it sold presence.

And the church?
It didn’t preach.
It listened.

This wasn’t redevelopment.
This was a neighborhood
learning how to hold itself
without apology.