Begin to see yourself
not as something
finished
but as a poem sees
itself: made up of possibilities
and forgiveness and leaps
of faith,
a constant becoming
of what it is meant to be.

The start is always a stab
in the dark, with wrong
turns, blind alleys, and slippery rocks
that cut to the bone.
It’s only later you learn
that pain is a step forward, too
and that sometimes you need to go lost
to find the right road home.