(a poem for the days that ache)

I am allowed to have bad days,
Or weeks that stretch like endless haze.
Even when I know my name,
It doesn’t shield me from the flame.

Life still strikes with heavy hands,
And sometimes pain outgrows my plans.
But bruises do not blur my face,
Nor strip my soul of rightful place.

I stand in truth, I know my core,
Yet sorrow knocks upon my door.
Joy and grief can intertwine—
Both are threads in this life of mine.

This verse I write to ease the sting,
Of guilt that quiet sadness brings.
As if the ones who wish me small
Will point and say, “You’re not so tall.”

But hardship isn’t proof of lies,
Nor does it dim my inner skies.
I am still me, through storm and strife,
Still worthy of a gentle life.

So let the tears fall if they must,
They do not tarnish self or trust.
Life is hard, and that’s okay—
I’ll rise again, in my own way.

©️ Beatriz Esmer