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They speak in shadows,
sharp like thorns hidden in familiar gardens—
an aunt, a cousin,
voices that bruise without leaving marks.
I stand there,
hands quiet,
heart louder than their words,
wanting to fix what I never broke.
But some storms
are not mine to calm.
So I loosen my grip—
on anger,
on answers,
on the aching need to be understood.
I lift it all upward,
this tangled weight of silence and strain,
and place it gently
into His hands.
Let Him soften what I cannot,
lighten what I cannot reach,
teach them warmth
where cold has taken root.
And me—
teach me stillness,
the kind that does not surrender,
but trusts.
For peace is not found
in changing others,
but in knowing
who holds the power to.
They act so rich,
their laughter rising high in the air,
pulling chairs,
treating the professor
as if the world rests in their hands.
I watch,
and for a moment I wonder—
why not me?
why not yet?
But no,
I refuse to drown
in the shadows of suspicion.
No negativity,
I whisper to myself,
for a darkened heart
never gives birth to light.
I choose silence,
I look up,
calling His name
in the noise that isn’t mine.
Oh God,
if it is good,
if it is blessed,
if it is a path You approve—
grant me the strength to be like them,
without losing myself,
without losing my faith,
without bringing anyone down.
Let me grow
in my own way,
in Your time,
with sustenance meant only for me.
Because I believe,
what is meant for me
will never miss its way.