What Remains Does Not Ask Permission
I was not shaped for applause
but for duration.
I learned the grammar of storms
and answered in silence.
My leaves grew thick
from holding too much sky,
my roots fluent in patience,
my trunk taught to stand
even when forgotten.
Some beings bloom once
and vanish into praise.
Others remain
and inherit the ground.
I am not loud.
I am not fragile.
I am what survives
when attention leaves.
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