to take the hand—
a saving hand of encouragement,
of strength.
Carrying doubt in every cell,
wrapped in pity I mistook for protection,
I pulled away.
I let go.
Again.
I reached once more,
searching for the offering—
the gift that promised self-confidence,
the place where I might finally arrive.
Fear whispered consequences.
Uncertainty rehearsed failure.
And again,
I stepped back.
Again.
Then I stood.
I stopped chasing the hand
and let it come to me.
I allowed myself to be lifted,
guided forward,
held steady.
I made it.
And now I am here—
again—
with a hand up,
not a hand out.
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