Softly Becoming
I am learning that life
does not shout,
It whispers—
In quiet prayers,
In tears that fall without sound,
In strength I didn’t know I had.
Some days I bloom,
Other days I bend,
But even bending is not breaking—
It is listening to the wind
And choosing to stay rooted.
I am not late,
I am not lost,
I am held by grace unseen,
Growing in the quiet places,
Exactly where I need to be.