Where my Name Used to Live

I built this life

on silence,

on nights no one else could bear.

Strength was not given —

I dragged it from the dark,

stitch by stitch,

breath by breath.

No partner could have carried me here.

No love could have softened the climb.

This summit demanded solitude,

and I paid the toll alone.

Once, I loved with open hands.

But August carved its mark into me —

a wound too fragile to stay.

Death pressed its weight against my chest,

and in that stillness,

a different devotion was born:

to truth,

to survival,

to the man who rose from ashes.

Now I stand.

Not waiting.

Not begging.

Not undone.

And if curiosity ever circles back

to the place where my name once lived —

this is what it will find:

I could only reach this height

by standing alone.

And from here,

the air tastes like freedom.