A Power That Doesn’t Shout

There’s a kind of power people talk about… But they don’t always know its name. It wears a crown of jagged stone Calls every silence “being alone” Swings like a hammer in the night Thinking noise is equal to might It paints its hands in borrowed blame And calls that fury by a name It shouts for blood to make things right Like fire could turn darkness bright Oh don’t confuse the fire with the sun Or a battle lost for a battle won One burns fast, one holds its ground One needs a witness, one don’t make a sound Strength is an anchor when the waters fail Cruelty’s just another kind of gale True power walks with a careful pace Don’t need a crowd, don’t need a face Keeps its blade but lets it rest Only draws when there’s nothing left It knows the weight of every scar And doesn’t chase what anger starts It speaks so low you lean to hear But somehow leaves the meaning clear Now rage will tell you “strike it down” Wear your pain just like a crown But every swing that’s born in spite Leaves you weaker for the fight So don’t confuse the fire with the sun Or the damage done for the good you’ve won One tears loose, one stands its ground One gets lost, one’s always found Strength is the hand that can prevail And still refuse to let harm set sail Yeah the loudest voice ain’t always right… Sometimes power waits… then answers when it must.