She had done nothing wrong
and she waited for assurance of that fact.
She waited for the chance to speak,
to have others know the truth.
She worried she had done something wrong,
worried it was somehow her fault,
worried she had not done enough,
worried she had done too much.
When she began to tell others,
nobody gave her all the assurance,
but they shared in her truth;
good ones carried the truth alongside her.
She came to a point where her confidants knew,
even the ones from back then,
even the ones from since then,
even, even, and yet,
one person remained.
She had not told herself -
I did nothing wrong; I am sure of that.
I was not at fault for the harms done to me.
I am forgiven for doing what I needed to do,
in moments of fear, shock,
I did what I could to manage difficult situations,
a horrible home life,
and an abusive relationship.
I did my best, and I did it well.
I am not too much.
I was brave and told the truth.
I have told who I wanted to tell.
Nobody remains untold.
My truth is known.
I deserve rest now.
I am free. I am still me.
I am small, but I am mighty.