Making Space

I make the room with care,

as if someone I love is coming,

even if that someone is only one person.

The tea is simple.

The light is soft enough.

I tell myself: this is enough.

I stop counting.

I stop checking.

When people come,

they come gently.

When they don’t,

the room is still complete.

I feel it then,

the relief of not needing to earn

what is already here.

I committed to myself, not outcomes.

My worth became clear.

And nothing asks me to prove it.