I saw the children passing by, Their proper clothes, their easy lives. I looked down at these clothes of mine And wondered what was wrong. I wanted what I could not name, A place, a home, an honest name— But underneath the soot and shame, I had it all along. I thought that I must earn it. I thought that I must prove That I deserved a little bread, A little warmth and room. But I was enough When I was small. I was enough With nothing at all. Before I grew wiser, Before I grew tough, Before I could say it— I was enough. I learned that chains can hold the hands Without possessing heart or mind. I sat within that darkened place And found what waited there. When I was still, I heard the truth. When I was quiet, something moved. Freedom was not somewhere else; Freedom was already there. And I was enough Inside those walls. I was enough When no one called. In hunger and stillness, In sorrow and love, Before I believed it— I was enough. The lesson is always peace. Under the noise, there is peace. When all about me is unrest, When even I am chaos, I can quiet myself. I can enter the stillness. I can own the stillness. I can rest. I spent so many years believing Love was something I could lose— Something given by another, Something someone else could choose. But now I hear my own full voice, Not hidden in a frightened hush. No apology, no trembling— Only what I know is true. I am enough. I always was. Not for the work Or what I’ve done. Not for the stories Or battles I’ve won. I am enough Because I am. Enough Enough Enough And I am enough.
