Not Mine

I thought it was mine.
I really did.
I was raised to believe it was mine.
And as a female, I got extra props along the way
for living like it was mine.
Because I was overcoming the barrier
of being female
and making it mine nonetheless.
Being female was my barrier to overcome,
and I overcame it well.
Props to me
for making it mine.

I did not realize
how steeped in privilege
my everything was.

But now,
there is a pinprick of light —
a single candle in the distance,
casting everything I can see
into slight shadow.
This candle grows brighter and brighter,
giving me a chance to realize
that the light I have been living in
is only relative.

The light of mine
is as in a mirror, dimly.

The light that is coming,
the light that will illuminate ,
the light that is life . . .

not mine.
Ours.