Sometimes those who watch you
go by..
have no idea
about your journey
the roads you have taken to get here
they only see
who you are now
or think they do
and
measure your human weight
your life
your work
in the palm of their hand
they know nothing
because
beneath the obvious surface
of who you appear to be
is a proud survivor
who won’t stop
or be stopped
and knows the worth
of every scar
every scab
every wound
on its way to healing
No.
Don’t buy anymore
what fits in their palm
And do not sell either
that little space inside
where you sing
dance
paint
write
swear
get mad
and then sane
and then sad
and then
insanely happy
that place
where clarity fights with doubt
decisions waver
and then stand tall again
where you see ships
that haven’t yet arrived yet
loaded with gifts you have earned
where you need nothing
except every answer
that you have ever sought
You own this place
You leave it sometimes
but you find your way back
inhabit it
live in it
It has your name on it
not theirs.

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