These Are My Words of Life Number Two
These are my words of life—
not bright enough to dazzle,
not gentle enough to save you,
but true enough to stay.
I did not borrow them from morning
or steal them from the mouth of a beautiful sunset.
They were learned the way stone learns weather:
by enduring.
I speak them without apology.
They have passed through fear
and did not die.
They have slept beside sorrow
and woke still breathing.
Love, I know now,
is not the softest thing—
it is what remains
when softness is worn away.
There were years when the world
asked me to disappear politely, permanently,
to make my silence less useful,
to mistake survival for shame.
They still come to my door without consent.
I have seen goodness broken
and still refuse to call it rare.
I have seen cruelty crowned
and still believe it temporary.
If I praise beauty,
it is not because it is safe,
but because it persists—
a green blade of grass
through a split in the road, it persists.
If I speak of light,
it is not the light of promise,
but the light that comes
after the promise fails
and something quieter keeps going.
These words do not rescue.
They do not forgive the unjust.
They stand, simply,
like a body that will not lie down
when told it is finished.
Take them or leave them.
They are not here to persuade.
They are here because I am.
And if tomorrow asks again
whether life is worth the cost,
I will answer without shouting yes:
Yes—
because I am still breathing.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
