The Divine Masculine

Maybe—just maybe—
It’s time to admit
That I was ashamed to be a man.

Maybe I never had the masculine presence I needed as a child.

Maybe I was never encouraged to be independent and free,
To make mistakes,
To learn from them,
To make my choices and own them.

Maybe I never had a guiding hand to show me what strength truly meant.

Maybe I was cut down too often,
Criticized, shamed, and emasculated with ill intent.

Maybe my passion for life was extinguished,
Replaced with the weight of expectations that meant nothing to me,
Injected with the dogmas of a mediocre existence.

Maybe they wanted me docile, agreeable—
So they could uphold their fragile sense of superiority.

I have walked through my own darkness,
Felt its weight, and traveled its depths.
And in that silence, I was forced to face truths
I had long denied about myself.
And the truth?

I was ashamed of the masculine.
I was afraid to meet my own darkness.
I was ashamed to be a man.

Yesterday, I carried that shame.
But today—a little less.

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