Over 50 years...

It took me over fifty years,
to put myself first
to whisper yes to my own needs
without apology
or the need to earn it.

The mirror didn’t lie,
but I didn’t always believe her.
I poured into others
like I was infinite,
like love meant vanishing.

Now, it feels foreign
this choosing me.
This not shrinking.
This breathing without waiting
for someone else to grant me air.

It’s uncomfortable, yes.
Like wearing a crown
for the first time
after a lifetime of holding it
for everyone else.

But this discomfort?
It’s sacred.
It’s the ache of rebirth,
the stretch of a soul
coming home to herself.

I am not late.
I am right on divine time.

And finally,
so beautifully,
I am mine.