Ash-Winged and Still Flying: A Letter to Self-Doubt Left in the Dust of Wings - By Salem Youngblood

Written By: Salem Youngblood

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the evocative poem "Ash-Winged and Still Flying: A Letter to Self-Doubt Left in the Dust of Wings," Salem Youngblood invites readers on a transformative journey through the realms of self-doubt and identity. As part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, this piece delves into the emotional landscape of resilience and self-acceptance. With profound introspection, Youngblood crafts a narrative that resonates deeply with anyone who has faced the weight of self-doubt.

About the Work

Salem Youngblood's poem is a powerful exploration of the struggle with self-doubt and the embrace of one's true identity. Through rich imagery and metaphor, the poem contrasts the delicate beauty of butterflies with the resilient spirit of moths, symbolizing the journey from self-doubt to self-acceptance. The work is a testament to the enduring strength found in embracing one's unique path, free from the constraints of external expectations.

Ashen winged and still flying

Original Submission by Salem Youngblood

Ash-Winged and Still Flying: A Letter to Self-Doubt Left in the Dust of Wings

You-

who crept into the marrow long before I had the words to say no, who folded yourself into the hush between each heartbeat, who lived beneath my tongue, naming caution as virtue- I do not write to banish you.

I write to name you.

To peel you from my bones

and show you the mirror you taught me to fear.

You told me to soften.

To smile in stillness.

To speak only in sweetness.

To bury the howl inside my throat until it rotted into silence. You warned me: the world does not love noise.

Does not cradle sharpness.

Does not forgive girls born with claws.

And I-

child of dusk-

believed you.

How could I not?

I had seen them.

The butterflies.

Those gilded angels of daylight,

dipped in honey and grace,

blessed by warmth.

Their wings moved like lullabies.

Their presence drew joy the way wounds draw flies.

They were adored, worshipped, never questioned.

And yes-

they deserved it.

Make no mistake.

This letter carries no poison for them.

They are miracles.

They are silk and shimmer and sanctity.

They are prayers that flutter,

and their beauty is a truth I have always believed in.

But they were not me.

And this is where you failed me,

Self-Doubt.

Where your voice, so careful, so convincing, left me bleeding beneath a crown I could never wear.

You did not ask me to admire the butterfly. You asked me to become her.

To flay myself into a shape worthy of light. To copy the choreography of those born for celebration. You handed me powdered wings and said- Here. Wear this. Maybe now, they will let you stay.

So I did.

How I did.

Again and again.

I painted over my rawness.

I danced in gardens that named me alien.

I peeled back my darkness and served it with sugar. I pressed joy into my mouth until it cracked. I clipped my hunger into something quieter. And still-

they called me strange.

Because I was.

Because I am.

Because I am not butterfly.

I am moth.

Darker.

Quieter.

Less adorned.

More desperate.

And still-burning.

We do not float.

We do not dazzle.

We do not gather crowds.

We slip beneath the doorframe.

We wait for the hush.

We are drawn not to applause,

but to flame.

Not for conquest-

but for communion.

Because flame, too, is lonely.

Because fire, too, remembers what it was to be unwanted.

We are not born in splendor.

We claw free from shadow,

wings soaked not in gold,

but in grief.

And still,

we fly.

And though they praise the butterflies-

as they should-

I have learned I do not need their wings to be seen. I wear mine to remember.

To reclaim.

My wings are not shining.

They smolder.

They glow with the heat of having survived.

My body is not delicate.

It endures.

It endures.

And endurance-

endurance is its own kind of radiance.

I do not envy the butterfly.

I honor her.

But I do not long to be her.

Her light is not mine.

Her grace is not mine.

Her adoration is not mine.

The garden was never my chapel.

The flame was.

It was there I found my name.

In the hiss of burning silk.

In the scent of scorched illusion.

In the silence after every death

they said I would not rise from.

So let them crown their butterflies.

Let them paint in pastels and sing in bloom.

I will wear my ruin

like a relic.

And fly through the dark

like a hymn.

The moon sees us both.

She does not choose.

She casts her gaze upon the soft-winged revelers and the soot-streaked survivors alike. She does not ask for glitter.

She only asks we keep moving.

She watched me crawl.

And still she lit my path.

She knows beauty is not always brightness. Sometimes, it is ash.

Sometimes, it is silence.

Sometimes, it is me.

And so I say to you,

Self-Doubt-

familiar ghost,

keeper of fear-

I see you.

I thank you for your caution.

But I no longer live beneath your rules.

I am not a mistake.

I am not unfinished.

I am not too much.

I am a moth.

Ash-winged.

Light-touched.

Still flying.

And in my flight-

there is purpose.

Not spectacle.

Not applause.

But truth.

And truth,

even in shadow,

is beautiful.

Forever your reflection,

-She Who Stopped Apologizing for the Fire

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates diverse voices in poetry and creative writing. This esteemed platform offers writers worldwide the opportunity to showcase their talents and share their stories with a global audience. Participants engage with themes that challenge and inspire, contributing to a vibrant literary dialogue.

Thank you, Salem Youngblood, for sharing "Ash-Winged and Still Flying: A Letter to Self-Doubt Left in the Dust of Wings" with us as part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your words offer a profound reflection on resilience and identity, leaving an indelible impact on readers. We are grateful for your contribution to this literary journey.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.