Some poems arrive quietly.
Others arrive with their claws out.
The Lioness Roar was one of those poems.
It wasn’t written from a place of fear about death. It was written from a place of acceptance — the understanding that none of us know how long we have, but we do get to choose how we live while we’re here.
For much of my life I have been told, directly and indirectly, to be quieter, softer, easier to understand, easier to manage, easier to fit into the spaces other people created.
The problem is, I was never built that way.
I came into this world asking questions, pushing boundaries, making mistakes, surviving hardships, and refusing to stay silent for long. Sometimes that made life more difficult. Sometimes it made me unpopular. But it also made me free.
The poem speaks about authenticity. Not perfection.
I have never been perfect.
I have been broken.
I have struggled.
I have failed.
I have survived.
And I have learned that there is a difference between being broken and being defeated.
The lioness in this poem is not a symbol of strength because she never falls. She is strong because she keeps getting back up.
When I wrote the final lines —
“Remember me
Not with softness,
But with
A fucking
Lioness
Roar.”
—I wasn’t asking to be remembered as fearless.
I was asking to be remembered as someone who lived honestly.
Someone who fought for her survival.
Someone who stayed true to herself, even when it would have been easier not to.
If this poem has a message, it is this:
Live loudly enough that your life becomes your roar.
Not for other people.
For yourself.
Because in the end, authenticity is freedom.
And freedom is worth fighting for.
Thank you for reading
Your DislexicPoet 🖤
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