Unshackled

By Diane Godwin. Abuja, Nigeria

They said my voice was too loud
for the quiet they wanted.
They told me to fold my dreams
like wrappers in an old chest,
to wait for permission
before breathing my own air.

But the day broke,
and the harmattan wind
whispered my name in a language
only my spirit understood.
I stepped into the sun,
bare feet on hot concrete,
and felt the ground remember me.

I did not ask.
I did not bow.
I ran,
laughing like rain on zinc roofs,
shaking loose the dust
of their small expectations.

The sky did not fall.
The earth did not split.
Only the weight on my shoulders
slid away like a tired bird taking flight.

And in that moment,
I learned—
freedom is not given.
It is taken,
clutched in both hands,
and worn like a crown
you forge for yourself.