PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Don’t you dare look at the way I kneel

and mistake me for weak.

You see surrender and think defeat.

I see surrender and think trust.

Do you have any idea how strong you have to be

to place the parts of yourself you spent a lifetime protecting

into someone else’s hands and say, "here."

Here is my stubbornness.

Here is my attitude.

Here is the mouth that sometimes pushes too far

just to find out if someone will push back.

Here is my fear.

My fire.

My softness.

Here are the pieces of me

the world taught me to keep guarded.

I surrender them willingly.

Because submission, to me, is not becoming less.

It is finally feeling safe enough to stop fighting for five fucking minutes.

Do you understand that?

I have spent enough of my life being strong.

Strong when I didn’t want to be.

Strong when nobody asked

whether I had anything left.

Strong because sometimes

there wasn’t another choice.

So when I choose to surrender,

when I choose to follow,

to listen,

to trust,

when I choose to hear Good girl

and feel something inside me finally become quiet

that is not weakness.

That is peace.

And yes,

sometimes I am a brat.

Sometimes I push.

Sometimes I challenge.

Sometimes I stand at the edge of a boundary

with that little smile that says,

"What are you going to do about it?"

But even that is part of my surrender.

Because underneath the attitude is trust.

Underneath the challenge is vulnerability.

Underneath every piece of armor I pretend I don’t need

is a woman asking,

Can I be completely myself here and still be held?

That is what submission means to me.

Not obedience without thought.

Not losing my voice.

Not becoming somebody’s property

because I somehow forgot that I belonged to myself first.

No.

I belong to myself.

That is exactly why my surrender means something.

Because you cannot give what was never yours to begin with.

this body,

this mind,

this stubborn fucking heart—

is mine.

So when I choose to place my trust in another person’s hands,

understand the weight of that choice.

I am not disappearing.

I am not shrinking.

I am not becoming powerless.

I am saying,

I know exactly how powerful I am.

And I trust you enough to let my guard fall.

I trust you enough to show you the woman beneath all that fight.

I trust you enough to surrender—

without losing myself.

So let the world stare.

Let them whisper.

Let them see me kneeling and assume they understand.

Because I know something they don’t:

There are people who spend their entire lives standing

because they are terrified of trusting anyone enough to fall.

Me?

I choose this.

I choose vulnerability.

I choose trust.

I choose surrender.

And when my knees touch the ground,

I am not beneath the woman I used to be.

I am not broken.

I am not conquered.

I am not weak.

I am exactly where I chose to be.

And there is nothing—

nothing—

more powerful than a woman who knows she can stand...

and still chooses to kneel.