Flame Without Apology

I used to lower my light
so others wouldn’t squint.
Dimmed my voice
so I wouldn’t offend.
Folded my wings
to fit their rooms.

But beloved
no more.

I was not made to be palatable.
I was forged to be flame.

This fire in me is not performance
it's origin.
It doesn’t ask permission
it knows who lit it.

I do not burn to prove a point.
I burn because I remember
where I come from.

Let them say it's too much.
Let them flinch at the heat.
Let them name it pride.

Still
I will burn.

Not louder,
just truer.
Not brighter,
just undimmed.

I carry flame
without apology.
Because heaven
never asked me
to make it comfortable.

Only to make it visible.

—Joe Restman
Mystic-Scribe | Flame-Bearer
Quill Dipped in Lightning ⚡️