Lyrics

I have entered rooms
where my name meant nothing.

New places.

New faces.

New rules
written somewhere
I had not been given access to.

I have smiled
with the confidence
of someone who knew
exactly where she was going,

while somewhere beneath my ribs
a small committee
was holding an emergency meeting.

Where do I stand?
Who do I ask?
What am I supposed
to know already?

I have learned
not to panic
when the ground feels unfamiliar.
I watch.
I listen.

I let the room
introduce itself.

People reveal themselves
in the spaces
between what they say.

Sometimes,
you learn more
by resisting the urge
to announce yourself.

I have learned
to change my rhythm
without surrendering
my music.

To bend
without becoming broken.
To adjust
without becoming unrecognizable.

That distinction
has saved me
more than once.

Adaptability
is not becoming
whoever the room requires.

It is carrying yourself
into unfamiliar places
without leaving pieces
of yourself behind
at the entrance.

Life has rearranged
my surroundings
more than once.

People changed.
Plans folded.

Doors I expected
to remain open
closed without explanation.

New ones appeared
before I had finished
grieving the old.

I have begun again
with more questions
than answers,

with very little certainty
and enough courage
to keep moving anyway.
Perhaps confidence
is not always knowing.

Sometimes
it is trusting yourself
to learn.

I no longer need
familiar ground
to believe I can stand.

Give me a new place.
Give me a beginning
without instructions.
Give me a little time.

I will listen
to the room.
I will learn
its language.

And when I finally stand
without wondering
whether I belong,

I will remember
my feet
were never waiting
for familiar ground.
They were waiting
for me to trust them.