An Epiphany Dawns
I kept telling myself
maybe I was wrong.
Maybe I was too much.
Maybe this was just what love looked like
when you grow up in survival mode.
Concrete was everywhere.
Under me.
Around me.
Inside me.
Still, something in me kept growing
without asking permission.
He thought my silence meant yes.
He thought my patience meant forever.
Public jokes.
Private pain.
Like breaking me
would fix
what was broken in him.
This is the war of wounds.
Not fists.
Not headlines.
But the quiet battles
we fight while still showing up.
The kind of wars
that teach you how to survive
before they teach you
how to live.
Then one morning,
it didn’t hurt the same.
It didn’t confuse me anymore.
I realized
I don’t have to bleed
for someone else to feel powerful.
Love that watches you hurt
and keeps going
is not love.
It’s dangerous.
God saw what I tried to explain away.
God heard what I kept swallowing.
And once I understood
I belonged to Him,
losing was never an option.
Fire didn’t destroy me.
It burned away the lies.
The ashes showed me
what was still standing.
Now an epiphany dawns.
I’m not becoming her.
I already am.
I’m just walking it out
through the war of wounds
with my head up
for me,
for my daughter,
for the crown
I don’t lower anymore.
This poem is about quiet realization,the moment survival turns into clarity. It’s for anyone who stayed too long, explained away pain, or confused endurance with love. There are no dramatic scenes here, only the silent wounds that happen while life keeps moving. Read it gently, and if it speaks to you, know this, you are allowed to choose more than survival.
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