I have been waiting
in a hallway without clocks,
where doors creak but never open
and voices echo judgment
before they know my name.
They asked me for patience,
as if love were a document
those needed signatures,
as if my heartbeat
required witnesses
before it could be believed.
I have stood in that silence—
a soldier at attention,
a child holding secrets,
an adult holding breath.
Approval dangled like a medal
I was told I hadn’t earned.
But humanity is not a petition.
It is mine,
unfolding in the skin I wear,
the truths I carry,
the love that refuses to wait.
I no longer stand
at the desk of their permission.
I walk beyond it.
Because the wait for approval
was never my burden to carry—
it was their blindness to set down.
And in my reflection,
I see no queue,
no gate,
no judge.
Just a life—
worthy, whole,
already enough.