Self Reflection 2

I am

a collapsing moment—

the inhale before the truth lands.

The hush in the room

before someone breaks.

I am many a mickle

that made a muckle.

Small choices, tiny sparks,

scattered pieces

stitched into something

intricate.

Clever.

Quietly powerful.

I am willow-soft

and storm-shaped.

Bending

but rooted.

I weep when I need to.

Then I rise—

always differently than before.

I am crow-wise—

watchful, unblinking,

gathering what others drop:

lost things, sharp things, shiny truths.

I speak in symbols

and I speak in spirals.

I don’t walk straight lines

because the answers aren’t there.

I am octopus-minded.

I shift.

I solve.

I wrap myself around the moment

and feel it from all sides.

I live in the in-between—

between what was

and what’s becoming.

I am playful.

Don’t mistake that.

Play is holy to me.

It’s how I fight,

how I heal,

how I transmute.

I am moonlit and moody,

lit from within,

especially when the world turns dark.

Give me wind and mood lighting.

Give me thunder and space to breathe.

Give me dandelions

when no one’s watching.

I am a way finder—

not with maps,

but with language.

I follow kerning like constellations.

I trust the space

between the words

as much as the words themselves.

Thresholds are sacred.

The moment before the yes.

The breath before the no.

The choice that changes everything

but seems so small

you almost miss it.

But I don’t miss much.

I am not a victim.

I have bled.

I have bent.

But I name the storm

and I ride it.

I don’t just survive.

I reshape.

I reclaim.

I write my name in the wind

and dare it to forget me.

I am.

And that

is not an apology.

Request permission to use this poem

Hello PoetryVoting

Self Reflection 2 - Hello Poetry