Gentle Does Not Mean Weak

I’ve been told to toughen up since I could barely speak,

as if kindness were a crack in the armor, as if softness made you breakable.

Yet, I have seen the opposite.

I’ve seen gentleness stand its ground while rage unraveled.

I’ve seen tenderness keep breathing in rooms full of fire.

I’ve watched my own hands offer grace to people who never learned how to receive it,

and still not close into fists.

If you think gentle means weak

then I bet you’ve never had to hold your own broken heart without bitterness.

I bet you’ve never chosen calm while shaking, or

you’ve never walked away when staying would've been easier but untrue, and I bet

you’ve never whispered “I forgive you” to yourself when all you wanted was to disappear.

I’ve been through enough to build a fortress

and still, I plant flowers everywhere I bleed.

That is not weakness,

that’s work,

that’s strength with open palms.

That is power that doesn’t need to shout.

That’s me.