Life’s Baggage

Liberation kicks the door wide,
light rushing in like breath after holding too long,
dust lifting off old selves
that finally loosen, finally let go.

The past still lingers,
but softer now—more echo than command—
and something steady, almost unbreakable,
keeps guiding me toward open ground.

Might be because I’ve bent without breaking,
like a tree in hard wind,
roots gripping deeper for every storm,
learning strength isn’t loud—just lasting.

Yes, it burns to grow,
old skins fall away, habits rust and scatter,
but underneath there’s movement,
a true r self stepping forward, unafraid.

So I go.

Lighter.

Not empty.

Carrying what healed instead of what hurt,
my thumb presses to the worry stone in my pocket,
my pacifier… still working its magic.