Not Ash, But Fire
They mistook her silence for softness.
But beneath that stillness,
the ground was shifting.
She wasn't snow–
she was the mountain before it breaks.
She held her tongue like a fuse,
every word a spark she wasn't ready to let go.
Not yet.
She didn't scream–
she shimmered.
Until the heat in her lungs became truth,
until the truth was too molten to hold.
And when it came out,
it wasn't a whisper.
It was lava–
raw, red, unstoppable.
Every step she took melted the lies beneath her feet.
They called it anger.
They called it destruction.
But she called it survival.
She didn't burn to destroy –
she burned to be seen.
To be heard.
To remind the world that even quiet girls
can set the earth on fire.
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