Becoming - Tyrone Ferguson

Between friction and grace,
I was tempered—
not found but formed
in the forge of forgetting.
There, I met myself
in the hush of broken things.
From castoffs and silence,
I crafted identity—
raised an altar
from abandoned relics
and let each wound
sing its sacred name.
Because truth
does not gleam untouched,
it lingers in the rust,
insists on remembrance,
and makes of refusal
its clearest offering.