I'm blessed with lungs that can expel more air than most and trained extensively in the rudimentary controls, I've become adept at being loud. I talk. I charm. I ease. I can yell harm or warning. I can whisper love and sweet nothings, calm from lips. I have become the double edged sword of the tongue, but now is the time to sheath that sword, the time to listen, the time for vulnerable peace in the face of the storm. The bravado that isolates may not be the strength that protects, heals, and allows for growth. Faith, not in the sword, but in the sword maker.
So now I wait, in unfamiliar silent frailty to see the protection of the maker, of me, the future, my gifts, my job, my love.
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