Because you stayed
when silence felt safer,
when truth was a trembling
thing barely stitched together,
you stayed.

Because you held the line
between memory and becoming,
between grief and grace,
between the ache of what was
and the bloom of what might be.

Because your breath
carried stories
that hadn’t yet found their names,
and your hands
built altars
from broken things.

Because you knew
that love is not a luxury
it’s a lifeline,
a lantern,
a legacy.

Because you danced
even when your feet were tired,
even when the music
was only in your head.

Because you forgave
the world
for not knowing how to hold you,
and then taught it.

Because you are not just surviving,
you are composing
a symphony
from the echoes of every “Why me?”

Because you stayed,
and in staying,
you became the answer.