Pearls

Who stole your pearls?
Who reached into your soft, sacred shell with hands too rough to hold beauty;
ripping without reverence,
shattering the sanctuary of your tenderness,
leaving you bleeding salt and silence?
Who saw your glow and decided it needed dimming?
Who told you that you were not divine,
not sovereign,
not the radiant keeper of your own universe?

Who broke you in half and defined it as discipline?
Who starved your worth and told you to feast only when they approved?
Who whispered that love was something earned through obedience,
through silence,
through staying small?
Who closed your eyes so tightly that your dreams suffocated behind your lashes?
Who poured shame into your bloodstream,
so that even your laughter began to feel guilty?
Who made your love die slowly;
a soft fading star,
until every fiber, every trembling cell inside you
ached with the weight of a heartbreak you didn’t cause?

And now,
who dares to remind you
of your exquisite, unrepeatable existence?
Who holds the mirror steady
when your hands are shaking too much to see yourself clearly?
Do you remember how often you fall silent,
not only because there’s nothing to say,
but also, you’re waiting,
hoping,
aching
to finally hear it?
To hear someone say,
You were never broken. You were always becoming.

Who taught you to seek validation in other people’s words?
In approval stamped by tongues that never knew your crescendos?
Who made you believe your worth lived outside your body,
instead of flowing from the melodic sound of your own musical lips?
Darling,
you are a gift wrapped in stardust and strength.
You were never meant to be understood by everyone.
You were meant to sing,
not to please,
but to be.

To reverberate your truth so clearly that even the mountains pause to listen.
And yes, you are stumbling.
You fall.
You bruise.
But with every falter,
you are freeing your love.
You are peeling off the layers of what was never yours to carry.
You are walking… aching, glowing… into your own chosen becoming.
Stay steady on the climb.
You are not lost.
You are not late.
You are almost there.
And when you arrive,
the earth will sigh in recognition.

The sky will whisper, She remembered.
And you…
you will sing like you’ve never been broken.
Because you weren’t.
You were always only buried.
And now,
you rise.

©️ original copywritten writing by Vennie Kocsis