Dominion

No supervisor measures out my worth;

her cold appraisal is a private shade.

I hold the value carried since my birth,

unmoved by petty metrics she has made.

I am far more than titles, desk, or wage;

this labor takes far more than it can give.

No hurried ledger binds me to the page;

I set the quiet terms on how I live.

If she should deem my efforts incomplete,

that weight belongs to her, and not to me.

Her fractured faith is where her shadows meet;

I walk the daylight, confident and free.

I chart the course across the open sea,

where neither spite nor malice holds the knife:

The architect of my own dignity,

I hold the sole dominion of my life.