Emotional Sovereignty Poem by Henrietta Ezegbe

Strength that does not announce itself,
does not raise its voice
or sharpen edges,
arrives through the knowing
of where you end.

From naming the difference
between what you feel
and what you learned to hold
to keep rooms intact.

Weight mistaken for character.
Burden praised as loyalty.

No fireworks.
No victory speech.
Only the slow return of sensation,
your nervous system remembering
which call belongs to you.

You stop translating silence.
Stop mistaking accommodation
for grace.

Needs were never heavy,
only stored
where they were useful
to someone else.

You see how endurance
passed for love.
How staying felt ethical
because leaving
threatened a narrative
already paid for in years.

The noticing stings,
like blood reentering a limb
you trained yourself
not to claim,
a circulation you named numbness
to survive.

Emotional sovereignty
is not retreat.
It is a border
held steady
even on days without pressure,
even when no one arrives
to test it.

It is choosing
not to manage the weather
inside another body.
Let storms move
without rehearsing
your own regret.

The body exhales.
Not all at once.
Just enough
to register
the absence of bracing.

You remain kind.
Just no longer available
for extraction.

This is not rebellion.
It is alignment.
A quiet agreement
between heart
and spine.

Nothing spectacular shifts.
Yet the weight redistributes.
What you carry now
recognizes you
as its keeper.

Tomorrow offers
not certainty,
not control,
but the dignity of presence,
held
without apology.