She Wore the Sky
She gathered pieces of herself
the way the heavens gather stars—
patiently, quietly,
without asking permission to shine.
Every curl became a constellation,
every scar a line of sacred scripture,
every dream tucked carefully
inside a crown no one else could see.
She learned that softness
was never the opposite of strength.
It was strength
wrapped in compassion,
forged through every season
that tried to convince her
she was less than enough.
Gold did not make her valuable.
It simply reflected
what had always lived inside her.
She walks now with the certainty
of women who remember their names,
who no longer shrink
to make room for doubt.
She is not becoming light.
She has always been light.
