This poem was born from watching creators, writers, and builders face hostility simply for showing up.
Hatred, blame, mockery, unfair attacks — not because they harmed, but because they dared to create, to exist, to try.
It is a reminder to myself, and perhaps to you:
we are all human.
And sometimes, staying human is not a given — it is a conscious, difficult, necessary choice.
A special thanks to HVR for having encouraged me to share it.
Special mention: Aaliya.
We are not alone.
My Greatest Gift
My greatest gift: being human.
Inheriting the gift of reflection,
of imagination,
my father’s resilience,
my mother’s kindness.
A gift. A blessing.
Belonging to a species that does not give up,
capable of evolving endlessly,
of inventing, bending, reshaping reality.
The ability to love,
to feel empathy,
to share burdens,
through the strength of community,
through love, friendship,
through cooperation,
through connection.
The ability to laugh,
to cry, to feel,
to savor life’s delights,
its simple, exquisite moments.
To stand in awe
before nature and its living forests…
The privilege of being a conscious animal.
Intelligent.
My finest burden: being human.
Trying to be just
in an unjust world.
To stay sincere
inside a room built on lies.
Holding the light
when darkness becomes the reference.
Being forced to doubt:
the kindness of peers,
the loyalty of companions,
the sincerity of love.
Being the one who remembers the rules,
at the risk of becoming
the moralizer,
the mood killer,
the one no one wants around.
To be a shepherd
Among wolves,
Despised,
Even by those he protects.
Becoming aware,
at the risk of being judged,
misunderstood,
isolated.
Being generous
while being stolen from.
Giving
what you do not even know you possess.
Being human in narrow spaces—
my gentle cross.
My greatest trial: staying human.
When injustice strikes,
when wolves close in,
when envy targets what I build,
when hatred destroys what I create.
When condemnation comes without reason,
humiliation,
deception,
raw cruelty.
When my heart is torn open,
when death is forced to cross my territory,
when society steals my dreams
and mocks my suffering.
When my pain feels artificial,
infernal,
as if forgotten by the sky.
When doors close just before I arrive,
as if my existence were a sin.
When the powerful suffocate me,
when the unaware violate my breath.
When life gives me
every reason to become cruel—
staying human
becomes a constant test.
My harshest privilege: being human.
Having a choice.
Having a right.
The right to be myself,
to live by my own rules,
to lose control,
to refuse being controlled.
To decide what stays,
what leaves,
what I accept,
what I refuse.
The right to live,
the chance to be free.
To choose my reality,
to pursue my ideas.
The ability not to be shaken
by senseless voices,
by the noise of banality.
The power to disturb the world,
to challenge norms,
to be crazy
or deeply serious.
Yes, I have a choice.
I have a right.
More than just a living being,
less than a divine one—
we are human.
And that
is fascinating.
Closing note:
Let us remember that we are all human.
We move through the daylight while sometimes carrying weights others cannot see.
So a little more kindness, a little more respect for those who dare to show up, to create, to exist…
It might make life a little more just, don’t you think?
If you wish to support my work, you’re welcome to take your place in The Mirror Room by becoming a free or paid subscriber.
With clarity,
The Mirror Room
Odel A.
The depth and passion in this piece is balanced in every single stanza, leaving the reader wanting more. Beautiful.
so lovely!!! being a human is so weird lol but you held the complexity in your writing 🥰