harden

Don’t be easy.
Let softness belong to water,
but never seep into your spine.
Stand hard.
Be the knotted oak
that will not bend in the storm,
not the brittle branch
snapped by convenience or design.

Be righteous —
not with thunder’s arrogance,
but with dawn’s quiet creed,
unapologetic, rising even as
clouds attempt to dim its deed.

Don’t shrink for their comfort.
Don’t play the welcome mat,
pressed flat beneath stained soles.
Be the pointed nail,
sharp with chosen aim,
driving deep into the heart
of what must remain whole.

Let them bring their hammers,
let them strive to break you.
Your strength is neither softness
nor cruelty’s blade —
it’s the unyielding weight of truth,
standing unshaken, unafraid.

Shine, not with force,
but with clarity of knowing
you belong to what you uphold.
Let your righteousness blind them —
those who doubt your inner flame
yet cannot snuff its glow of gold.

Be the mountain laughing at winds,
the river refusing retreat.
Be unrelenting,
unshakable,
complete.

In a world of crumbling façades,
be the bedrock they recall —
the firm foundation,
rising beneath it all.