Becoming

a poem about stepping into your true self and finding that deep, earned serenity:

Becoming

I grew from storms I never chose,
Through winds that bent me, not that broke.
But somewhere in the quiet days,
I learned the strength inside my bones.

The pieces I once hid away
Now rise like dawn in gentle light—
No longer shrinking from my truth,
No longer begging for the night.

I walk into myself at last,
Feet steady on the sacred ground
Of who I am, not who I was,
My voice a calm, unshaken sound.

The battles left their marks on me,
But softened edges where they passed;
And in the stillness of my soul
I breathe a peace that stays, at last.

Serenity is not a gift—
It’s earned in tears, in letting go.
It’s choosing you, again, again,
Until your spirit starts to glow.

I’ve come home to the heart I own,
To quiet skies and open space.
Becoming me has been the road—
Serenity, the resting place.