The Wild Rise

You were never just one woman.
You are made of hundreds.
Those who came before
with calloused hands
and unsaid dreams.

They weren’t allowed
to rest,
to rage,
to want more.
So they baked their longing into bread,
sang it into lullabies,
tucked it into stories
told only in kitchens and whispers.

They bent so you could stand.
They stayed silent so you could speak.
They obeyed so you could choose.

And now
you rise.

Not quietly.
Not neatly.
But wildly.

With a laugh that dares.
With a truth that burns.
With boundaries they were never allowed to build
And dreams that may as well have been the moon

You are their answered prayer
and their unfinished sentence.
You are the reckoning
and the rebirth.

This is not rebellion.
This is the wild rise.