“When I Become”

by Adena M’lynn

When I become the sunrise,

I’ll paint your windows gold

so even the darkest night

can’t convince you it’s forever.


When I become laughter,

I’ll hide in your pockets

and tumble out

at the exact moment

you think you’ve forgotten joy.


When I become a tree,

I’ll grow wild branches

that bend just enough

to let you climb higher

than you ever thought you could.


When I become rain,

I’ll wash the dust from your shoulders,

turn your sidewalks into rivers,

and teach you to dance

without music.


When I become tomorrow,

I’ll arrive with open hands,

a calendar not yet written on,

a promise that anything—

everything—

is still possible.


And when I become hope,

I won’t knock.

I’ll move in,

rearrange the furniture,

hang your walls with light,

and remind you—

you were always

meant for more

than survival.

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