Stone by Stone

I am the ruin.

I am the architect.

I am the hands gathering gravel from my hollowed-out chest stone by stone, lesson by lesson, love by love.

This heart— it broke but it did not die.

It waits now to be rebuilt not as it was but as it was always meant to be— stronger, stranger, wiser, beautiful, not in spite of the cracks but because of them.

This body— it carries echoes not burdens.

Memories, not chains.

I am allowed to miss what shaped me without inviting it back into my bones.

I pour truth over what remains.

I sift illusion from memory.

I gather myself not to become smaller— but to rise wilder.

I release. I rebuild. I remember.

I am not waiting to be chosen anymore.

I am the builder.

I am the home.

I am the whole damn cathedral.