Echoes of the Unspoken

They called me a coward, said my words would hide, Too timid to face the storm, I’d run and confide. My thoughts were shadows, secrets bound tight, In the echoes of silence, I fought my own fight. They wanted bold thunder, unyielding and loud, To speak like the lightning, piercing the cloud. But my voice trembled, a flickering flame, Afraid of the sparks that might tarnish my name. I carried my truths in whispers, not roars, Let them drift behind unguarded doors. Perhaps it was fear; perhaps it was care, To speak of the absent felt too much to bear. Still, they threw their stones, their judgment like chains, Mocking my struggles, dismissing my pains. But courage, I’ve learned, wears many a guise It’s not always in voices, but in how one tries. So call me a coward if that’s how you feel, But my wounds are my own, and they’ve yet to heal. I’ll find my voice when the moment is true, And when I do speak, I’ll be ready for you.