You walk between moments,
where old wounds
hold you hostage
against new days,
where your hands carry
lessons you were never
meant to have.

Peel back the voices—
the ones that say stay small,
the ones that tell you
to give until you are empty—
as if you were made to be a turnip.

With a leap of faith—
trust yourself,
unknot your spine,
soften your jaw,
scrub the shoulds from your skin
and kick the naysayers
to the curb.

You do not need
to be saved—
just reminded
that before the world
carved its shape into you,
you were—
beautiful,
and boundless
beyond measure.