I was raised on the idea that kindness could never win
because it cannot fight
it cannot compete
it cannot grow loud in the face of fear
I was raised to believe that kindness makes one weak
and that is true;
it’s an open palm
it’s a lowered shield on the battleground
But in my warring days it was only kindness
that gave me strength
I was so outmatched
I could never win but I could stand firm
in my belief that the victor is really the one
who bears his chest
who opens her heart
who remains brave in an unkind world
which fears itself.
This must be my new favorite! Beautiful poem!
Aw shucks my friend, you flatter me ❤️