but her presence shifts the air.
Not because she demands it -
but because she's become it.
They never saw the nights she doubted,
the mornings she rose with shaking hands,
the days she showed up with tired eyes
and a fire that refused to go out.
They'll say she's lucky.
They'll say she made it.
But she'll know-
it was never luck.
it was never magic.
It was every no she turned into maybe,
every maybe she turned into why not me?
She made something holy
out of hardship.
She wove purpose
into her pain.
She didn't wait to be chosen-
she built her own name.
And when the world pushed back,
she smiled,
not because it was easy-
but because she knew:
She was built for the climb.
She rises anyway