Not Yours to Name

Everyone wants to be the first,

like land wasn’t walked on before the map,

like grief wasn’t sung before the paper.

They put fences around breath

and call it invention.

Carve initials into wind.

Trademark the moon.

It’s not enough to create—

they have to own.

They have to say: mine.

Like a form is a crown.

Like the silence between lines

wasn't always holy.

But I don’t want to plant a flag.

I don’t need your applause,

your desperate scramble for original.

Let me be ordinary like fire.

Let me be nameless like rain.

Let me not care

if you think I am

something to remember.

I don’t want to be first.

I want to be

free.