The quiet courage of becoming

For a long time, l gave quietly. So quietly that no one noticed the pieces missing. I trusted smiles that learned my name but never my weight .

I gave softness to hands that only knew how to take, called it love, loyalty and called it submission. I trusted voices that took my kindness for permission and silence for consent.

I stayed, I softened and l believed. I bent in situations I should never have, l doubted myself, I lost myself esteem and I lost my becoming.

Until one day, there was nothing else to give without losing myself entirely. So I stepped back ,locked the door, gathered strength and chose my own name. Chose my own breath and my own becoming.

They called it anger, they called it rage but l called it resurrection. I had finally stopped disappearing, not hardened by what l had lost but strengthened by what tried and failed to break me.

Now I keep my strength like a sacred flame hidden where doubt cannot breathe and stand taller where I used to bend.