I Am Not Just the Pillar

They call me strong

because I don't bend when the storm hits.

Because I hold everyone else

when the roof caves in.

Because I've mastered 

the art of standing still

while carrying the weight of people

who forgot how to ask if  I'm tired. 

But let me be clear...

I am not just the pillar.

I am the wildness

growing up the spine of the structure..

ivy that kisses stones

and dares to bloom anyway.

I am soft

like water carving mountains,

unapologetically feminine

without needing to shrink to be so.

I can cradle your sorrow

and still bite down on injustice

with the teeth of someone

who's held their own broken pieces

and put them back in place

without a manual.

Yes, I'm constant.

But I'm also chaos in rhythm. 

Fire wrapped in silk.

A storm that dances.

The hand that comforts

and the flame that cautions.

Don't mistake my stillness for compliance.

Don't mistake my warmth for weakness.

I laugh like thunder,

weep like moss,

love like seasons shifting

in ways you don't notice

until you look around

and realize everything's changed.

I am not your statue.

I am not your checkpoint.

I am not the reliable backdrop

in your play of convenience.

I am the gentle awakening

that comes after years of numb.

the one who says:

Yes, I carried it all.

But I also ran barefoot through wildflowers

when no one was watching.

And I am not asking to be unburdened..

just seen.

See for all of it.

The wild.

The soft.

The steady.

The flame.

The woman

who dares to be everything

and nothing expected.