I trembled—
not out of fear,
but because skin weeps too
when the soul begins to wake.
I awoke—
not in light,
but in the ruins
of all I pretended not to feel.
The world offered numbness,
but I chose the wound
if it meant
I’d feel alive.
I’d rather walk cracked
than sleep in stone.
For there’s no glory in being asleep
when trembling
can also be a way forward.