Narrative (a poem)

The narrative we chase 

often 

is not our own.

It’s an undesirable dream 

dwelling outside self;

a nightmare 

of someone else’s choosing.

Its presence,

its pressure,

its urgency

make it seem

the only story 

to be lived

if one is to be deemed

successful,

worthy,

accomplished,

more than nothing,

something 

in this world. 

Many todays,

futures,

and

yet to be’s 

have been

and continue to be 

crushed under

its unbearable weight.   

Yet,

in the center 

of who it is that is you 

dwells a different tale,

a story of promise,

a narrative born

with humanity’s first breath,

a divine blessing

as old as time,

a memory engrained 

in the foundational

elements of you,

of all of you. 

The story you are living 

that grows 

from the depths of you

is the only life you can live. 

If you sit still long enough

you can hear 

it’s ancient rhythm

beat within your heart. 

It belongs to you. 

It is you. 

You are the beloved. 

You are accepted. 

You are enough. 

This narrative,

this eternal, 

this internal story

is the one the world needs to hear 

because 

it belongs to you. 

It is no hero’s myth. 

It is your reality. 

It is magnificent. 

No one can tell you

that you are doing it wrong. 

It belongs to you. 

Live

into

this

story. 

It is the only one

you have ever had. 

It belongs to you. 

  —bshivers