She Forgot She Was Magic

She wandered through days that felt borrowed,

her footsteps echoing in the wrong direction.

The mirrors showed her a stranger,

eyes dulled, hands restless, heart too quiet to hear.

She asked the sky, the streets, the stars,

“Why am I here?” And the silence nearly swallowed her whole.

But in the hush, something stirred, a whisper from within:

Remember the fire you were born with.

Remember,

the tide that moves in your blood.

Remember,

the galaxies that hum behind your ribs.

You are not lost, only waiting to remember.

So she inhaled, and the air tasted like beginnings.

She stood, not as the woman who wandered,

but as the woman who decided the road would follow her.