What if I am not enough?
What if my words have run dry?
What if I’ve lost my alebi?
These excuses, I’ve held them them so high.
Running deep, but one breath and they are full of smoke.
Smoke screens of who I believe I’ve been.
Past scenes replaying through my mind, but 50% are truth and the rest are just lies.
Because we all have traumas and we all compromise to protect that child that lives inside.
Breath.
Breathe out until the smoke screen dies.
Inhale the realness of what lives inside.
Strength. Love. Hope reside.
Connection in the realness that we show outside.
So what if.
What if my breath can become oxygen for others to breathe?
And my trauma becomes the exhale for them to blow out their smoke screen.
