The Final Word

I only wanted all to see the simple things I understand with due intent for building bridges… But all it reaped was reprimand. It wasn’t truth I held so tight but fear of ever being wrong, and as I pressed in vigil sway I faced an opposition’s storm. I thought the silence held contempt for what was obvious to me but silence held a point of view that I had simply failed to see. Call it passion, call it pride— down deep within I feared to give. I swore to never let it go, for all should live the way I live. But if I pause to truly listen, not to sway but understand, I may just witness quiet reason without a clenching fist in hand. I still believe in speaking out but strength is not an unsheathed sword. Its shared compassion spread throughout and holding back that “final word”.