Resurge

Resurge
The wind is softer today.
Not because the world changed,
but because I did.

I sat with my shadows,
named them without fear,
and watched them shrink in the light
of my own forgiveness.

There were days I bent low,
not in surrender,
but in preparation—
like roots deepening before the bloom.

Now I rise—not loud,
not perfect—
but steady.
I resurge.

Not to prove anything.
Not to chase what’s gone.
But to be here.
To be good.
To be mine.