The Woman They Couldn’t Name Correctly

by Samantha Syrnich (TLC)
© 2025 Samantha Syrnich. All rights reserved.

I am a mosaic of truths no one else can fully hold.
Some days I’m fire,
and when I am ash,
it’s not of my making—
but always,
always,
I rise from what was meant to bury me.

People read me through the cracks in their own stories:
to one I am courage,
to another I am too much,
to someone else I am softness wrapped in storms.
I’ve been called fragile by those who’ve never seen
what it takes to rise after everything falls.
I’ve been called intimidating by the ones
who fear a woman who refuses to die quietly.

But every opinion is just a window,
never the whole house.
Only I know the architecture of my becoming—
the hidden rooms built from survival,
the stairways carved from faith,
the halls echoing with every version of me
that chose to stand back up.

I live now by the compass of my own heart,
not by hands pointing at me from the sidelines.
Authenticity costs more than approval,
but it is the only currency worth anything.

My worth isn’t up for debate.
It’s rooted in the love I’ve fought to keep,
the truth I refuse to surrender,
and the light I carry even on the days
I feel made of shadows.

This is me—
unfiltered,
unmasked,
a woman shaped by fire yet still capable of gentleness.
A presence some will never understand,
and others will cherish like air.

I wasn’t born to be defined by shifting eyes.
I was born to be known by the soul brave enough
to look directly into mine.

— Samantha Syrnich