I laid it down—
the weight that was never mine to carry,
ancestral ache,
borrowed blame,
the silent oaths of servitude
disguised as love.
Unclenched my fists
from what they told me was womanhood:
to hold everyone,
to hurt quietly,
to wear sacrifice like silk.
But silk can strangle.
And I—
I remembered I am ocean-born.
Salted in truth,
shaped by tides,
not meant to sink
under the weight of other people’s storms.
I released.
And it moved—
the world,
my breath,
the current within me.
Everything began to flow
with the precision of a moonlit tide.
No more heaviness.
No more ghosts in my ribs.
No more molding myself
into what survival demanded.
Now, I pack light.
Carry only what sings.
Only what frees.
Only what feels like wind on bare skin
after rain.
This is not selfishness.
This is sovereignty.
This is alchemy.
I transmute the narrative.
The woman who once broke herself to fit
is gone—buried in grace.
In her place,
a phoenix sways
on silk threads of sky,
an aerialist of love,
untethered, divine, whole.
I no longer apologize
for choosing myself.
I rise in peace.
I walk in light.
I carry nothing
but the truth of my own becoming—
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Healing Majestically 