Who understands me but me 
when I say this is beautiful.
When the path looks crooked and torn
with rocks, stumps, roots and uneven ground.
I take the first step.

They say I should be afraid 
and not wander out too far,
not go out of my comfort zone:
the safety net that has become a leash
tethering me to this spot
training me to be okay with this small plot.

They say I am reckless, foolish
and asking for trouble.
I lace on my sneakers and head out the door.
The sunlight streams through the tree branches
A lighted beam pointed toward freedom:
Freedom from thinking small
Lighting the path to discovering my own voice
and inner strength.

They say the path is dangerous.
Its twists and turns unknown
to an untrained eye.
I do not need a compass in my pocket
to show me the way.
I have always known this journey.

I may return to it again and again
Reminding myself of my true worth.
My true north is an innate part of me.
It cannot be scared, beaten or numbed away.

I will always resurface
and be a companion and a guide
to my own suffering 
and fears of being lost,
Filled with doubt or shame,
Guilty for taking the first step.
I am in my corner.

They say it is for my own good.
It is uncomfortable to go against the grain.
I show up again and again
Not only to prove them wrong
But to show up for me.
I am on my own side
and free to be me.