Chuck Peterson

Borrowed Shadows

Comparison slips in like a thief,

scattering seeds of doubt and fear

until they whisper: I am not enough.

It weighs worth in online clicks,

body shapes,

and shades of skin,

cultivating a garden

where nothing is allowed to bloom.

For too long,

I anchored myself
in other people’s shadows,

drifting without direction,

forever adjusting,

realigning my path

toward some elusive idea of adequacy.

Yet in the quiet of reflection,

a truer voice rises, asking

why I lived beneath borrowed shadows

instead of stepping into my own light.

We are not numbers,

not objects, not the gaze that tries to name us.

We can break those silent chains,

return to our own truth,

and move again to the rhythm of our lives.

Our stories define us—

the love we offer,

the dreams we dare to speak aloud,

and the joy we welcome in.

They remind us:

we have always been enough.