How many feet have been blistered,
or hands calloused-
how many brows glisten with sweat,
or eyes weigh heavy with fatigue-
some battle scars cannot be hidden-
who gives up and who stays?
despite the season, some engines just
cannot be stopped-
quiet will gain you peace,
but your voice will never be heard-
gentleness will earn you comfort,
but will never help you conquer your fears-
timidity will keep you safe, but will rob
you of your passion-
meekness so often leads to weakness,
as long as we allow it to weed our fields-
it is a mask for shrinking into the darkness
in order to avoid the light-
many of us wear that badge grudgingly,
while many are purely unaware that they’re adorned
with it-
others try to conceal it, but fail
nearly every time-
once you swallow the seed of submission,
you’ll slowly breed a cycle of backtracking
and playing catch up-
when we only accept what comes our way,
we never learn what it’s like to go get-
when we never develop the hunger for the hunt,
we will always end up on the side of prey-
the mask of meekness is a comfortable one,
but most often not a profitable one,
for the longer the mask is worn,
the longer the wearer goes unrecognized*


One comment

  1. gypsy11

    Living a life in hiding is such wear and tear on the body. Diminishing oneself emotionally/mentally/spiritually actually weakens the quality of our physical health. Yet we still hold back. You have captured this state very well in this poem.

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