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The Becoming
There were words I loosed like doves in flame,
Believing then they sang my name.
They circled truths I thought were stone,
But time has taught me bone is bone.
It bends, it breaks, it mends anew,
And so, my thinking shifted too.
There were paths I carved with fervent feet,
Mistaking hunger for the heat.
I danced with shadows, dressed in pride,
I kissed ideals I now let slide.
Not out of shame, nor some disguise,
But from the way that wisdom sighs.
No, I wear no doubled face,
No costume stitched with sly disgrace.
I do not play at saint or sin,
But simply shed my older skin.
The soul, like sea, must ebb and swell,
What once was right may not still dwell.
Growth is not betrayal’s twin,
It is the echoing voice within.
That softens stone and clears the dust,
That asks, “What now deserves your trust?”
And so I rise, unchained from past,
Not fixed in marble, but made to last.
Judge me not by yesteryear,
But by the will that brought me here.
I bloom, I stumble, I redefine,
Each version still a thread of mine.
For even stars must shift their place,
And find new fire in endless space.
So let me change, and let it be,
A hymn to our humanity.
Not proof I’ve lost my truest hue,
But proof I’ve lived, and listened, too.
This piece breathes like an
This piece breathes like an old soul in a new body: reflective, bold, and untethered by shame.
It’s the kind of poem that doesn’t just speak; it listens to its own evolution.
The imagery—“words I loosed like doves in flame,” “bone is bone,” “wisdom sighs”
is a stunning collision of vulnerability and assertion.
There's grace in the speaker's permission to shift,
and strength in the refusal to wear “a doubled face.”
The final stanzas especially carry a quiet defiance against judgment,
echoing something almost sacred: the right to change, not as a flaw but as a virtue.
This isn't just a poem about growth; it’s about earned authenticity; the messy, beautiful process of becoming.
What resonates most is that gentle command: “So let me change, and let it be, / A hymn to our humanity.”
It doesn’t beg for understanding. It asserts that transformation is not betrayal.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
I am so appreciative of the
I am so appreciative of the time and effort to leave such a well-crafted comment on my poem. It is appreciated and I am glad that you received the message it contained :)
Thank you, Savva