I Was Never Small

They said I was too quiet

To ever shake the ground,

Too gentle with my footsteps

To make a worthy sound.

They mistook my silence

For fear I could not fight,

They never saw the galaxies

I carried through the night.

I learned to build in shadows

While doubters watched the sun,

They thought that I was standing still—

I was becoming one.

Not loud like crashing thunder,

Not fierce like raging flame,

But steady as a mountain

That never needs a name.

I have fallen, yes, I’ve shattered,

Felt the weight of unseen chains,

But every crack they laughed about

Was shaping deeper veins.

Strength is not in shouting,

Nor proving who you are,

It’s rising every single time

They tell you not to start.

I am not made of noise alone,

Nor fragile like they guessed,

I am the storm that gathers slow

Inside a quiet chest.

And when I rise—and I will rise—

It won’t be to compete,

It will be to show the world

That soft does not mean weak.

For oceans do not argue,

And mountains do not explain,

They simply stand in power

Through sunshine and through rain.

I was never small—

Just growing out of sight.