The Tree of Becoming

The Tree of Becoming

I wandered through a forest dense with doubt,
Each step I took, the shadows called me out
But in my chest, a seed began to grow,
And from the earth, a quiet strength would show

The roots I dug into the clay of fear,
Their tender threads still binding what was dear
Yet every branch that reached for light and air
Brought blooms of courage, no longer unaware

I watched the vines that twisted round my soul,
Unravel slowly, making me feel whole
Each petal, each leaf—an answer found,
I danced among the thorns without a sound

The river’s song did not wail with regret,
But hummed with waters past I’d never met
I let the current wash away the stains,
Unfolding to the rhythm of the rains

The stone of self, once cold and carved in doubt,
Now softened like a pebble, worn about
It rolled through streams with gentle, steady grace,
A thousand little touches left their trace

I grew a garden deep within my chest,
Where shadows feared to wander, could not rest
Now blooms of strength, as wild as they were free,
A field of quiet power, plain to see

I broke no chains, but let them wither away,
Not from the struggle, but from where I lay
I sank into the soil of truth and trust,
And rose, stronger, whole, and just

The storm is still, and in its wake I stand,
Not hardened, but a tree with an open hand
My roots run deep, but my branches bend and sway—
For I have grown, and still I grow today