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Know yourself. Free yourself. Be yourself.
Sacred Reflection
Plumes of My Becoming
I have stood in shadowed halls,
holding mirrors shaped by other hands.
Names given to me like garments I never chose,
and I wore them until they wore holes through my spirit.
But now—
I stand on the terrace of my becoming,
barefoot, breath-held, brave.
No longer asking:
"Will they see me?"
But instead:
"Can I stand in what I already know I am?"
The feathers I once folded to fit in boxes
now shimmer with stories.
They are not decoration.
They are proof.
I am not here to beg for belonging.
I am here to embody it.
And so I open my wings,
not to perform—
but to remember.
Reflections
Where have I dimmed or hidden aspects of myself to maintain belonging or avoid being misunderstood?
What roles or labels have others projected onto me that I am ready to release?
What does sovereignty feel like in my body? In my voice? In my presence?
How might I honor the beauty and wisdom I carry without apology?
Journaling
Light a candle. Take a few slow breaths. Place a token of transformation beside you. Reflect in your journal: What part of me is ready to rise? What old identity am I shedding? What truth wants to take flight? Write freely as you let the words life like feathers on the wind. Close with gratitude as you whisper: "I am becoming. I am becoming. I am becoming."
