For the love of yes,
I tear the caution tape from my ribs
and step into the pulse of the world -
raw‑knuckled, wide‑eyed, unrepentant.
For the love of yes,
I kick the locked door until it remembers
it was once a tree,
and trees know how to open.
For the love of yes,
I let the wind rearrange my name,
let the future drag its chair closer,
let the impossible clear its throat.
For the love of yes,
I refuse the smallness offered to me,
I choose the spark over the shadow,
the leap over the ledger,
the living over the lingering.
For the love of yes,
I rise -
not clean, not quiet,
but certain.