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Charlotte Cauley Poem
We were told to be grateful
for roofs that didn’t leak too much,
for bread that tasted like survival,
for borders that didn’t shoot on sight.
We were told peace was a gift
as if it hadn’t been built
on the backs of the voiceless
the hidden
the forgotten
as if silence were something holy.
They love our resilience,
but not our rage.
They quote our pain
and call it progress.
But I am done being their moral lesson.
My peace will not come softly
It will come with truth under its nails
dragging justice into the light,
refusing to apologize
for existing
So yes,
I am grateful
but not how they want me to be.
I’m grateful
that we are not done speaking,
and that our words,
sharp and uninvited,
still reach them
where it hurts to listen.
Copyright © charlotte cauley | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Charlotte Cauley Poem
In-form polarities merge in the heart, One that became two becomes one again. Breath by breath feeling bliss ignition start, God’s grace in-pours as we dance in the rain. Not passion’s blaze, but a quiet flame. the kind that hums beneath the ribs and bone. It doesn’t consume; it reclaims, turning ache into a sacred tone. In the hush between pulse and name, only love remains, utterly alone.
Copyright © charlotte cauley | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Charlotte Cauley Poem
Eyes meet in the snow,
whispers fold between their hands
hidden blooms of love.
Copyright © charlotte cauley | Year Posted 2025
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