Rose

I rose,
above anyone who ever shamed me for my talent. Who wanted to turn this brilliance into a joke, as if my pen ever needed their permission to shine
I rose,
above anything anyone has ever said about curls, the shape of my nose, the fire in my accent - as if my identity and my face wasn’t handpicked by God

I rose,
above any man that treated my body like it was disposable
that penetrated me with a manhood of insecurities and tried to make me question if I was ever anything other than absolute glory

I rose,
above any woman that faked loving me, that came for the poetry and left when the dreams were made clear, as if my greatness would do anything but add to theirs

I rose,
above anyone and anything that made me feel like I was inadequate, like my love wasn’t worth the fight. I rose, and will continue to rise
because my ‘too much’, my abundance,only means that I nor anyone I love will ever go without