Some things are so painful they have to be remembered in reflections,
whispers,
the imprint they left on the glass,
the bruises on skin or heart.

The moment in time when the fist hit… no.
The words that carved you empty… too raw a wound.
But you, my heart, my anchor, myself:
you did not deserve these scars.

That does not make them go away.

And yet, here you stand, brave, vulnerable,
alive.
You formed your bruises into stories of strength,
acknowledged the whispers as the lashing
of another’s insecurity.

You know their pain does not make you less than.

You are more than the words whispered in the dark of the heart,
more than the wounds you didn’t earn
but healed from anyway.

You are the joy that transforms your smile when you nurture a loved one,
the hope and wonder you face the future with.
You are the silly moments, the cat cuddles, the way
you refuse to compromise your worth.

You are enough.