Sacred Reflection

I have walked through flame
and did not rush the burn.
I have drowned in silence,
only to find my voice
rising from the hush.

There were seasons I froze—
encased in the armor of fear—
until thawed by the sun
of my own devotion.

I did not escape this becoming.
I allowed it.
Trembling and torn,
I stood still as the false fell away.

And now—

There is peace here,
not because life is quiet,
but because I am.
Not because all is perfect,
but because none of it needs to be.

I have wrestled the shadows
and kissed them into truth.
I have unmasked the stories
and made firewood of the lies.
And in their ashes:
me.

Unfiltered.
Unpretending.
Unbound.

This life—
not tidy, but sovereign.
Not staged, but sacred.
Not for show,
but for soul.

I wake, and I feel myself.
I speak, and it is my voice.
I love, and it is my choosing.
No one else’s script. No borrowed masks.

Just this realness.
This rootedness.
This holy, earned calm.

It was worth it.
Every tremor.
Every grief.
Every letting go.

Because now—
I belong to no one’s dream but my own.
And that is peace.