I step into the wreckage of every "no" I ever heard,
the echo of doubt rattling like loose coins in an empty pocket,
the rusted gates of defeat creaking open
as hope's thin thread quivers in my hand.
I trace the fingerprints of each stumble across cracked sidewalks,
see the sky swallowing my footprints one by one-each scarlet sunset whispering,
"You tried,"
even as night claimed my courage.
But then-I gather shards of those broken promises,
weave them into a ladder that climbs past bruised horizons,
each rung forged in the flash of a heartbeat refusing to quit.
I tase the iron tang of persistence on my tongue,
feel the wind shift beneath my wings,
lifting me higher than the highest doubt ever dared to dream.
And when I land, triumphant,
in the light of a new morning,
I am not the ghost of a fallen fighter
but the roaring pulse of someone who tried
one more time.