Bright Enough

I used to dim myself automatically

like a phone on low battery,

saving power

for people who never noticed

the light in the first place.

﹁﹂

I’d lower my voice in meetings,

laugh softer at dinner,

hold back the story

That would’ve made the table lean in.

I thought shining was rude.

I thought it needed a permit.

﹁﹂

Then one morning I wore red lipstick

to the grocery store.

No date, no audience,

just me and a cart

with boring cereal and onions.

﹁﹂

An old woman smiled at me

like she recognized something

I’d misplaced.

And I swear my chest warmed,

not from attention

from permission I gave myself.

﹁﹂

It wasn’t a grand transformation.

I still overthink.

I still sometimes apologize mid-sentence

for taking up air.

But now I catch it.

I stop.

I try again.

﹁﹂

I post the photo.

I share the idea.

I take the compliment

without swatting it away

like a fly.

﹁﹂

If someone thinks I’m “too much,”

I let them have that thought.

I’m done negotiating

my brightness

into something smaller, safer, paler.

﹁﹂

I don’t need a green light.

I am the light.

(Some days it flickers.

Still counts.)