Soft or Pointed!

- Chuck DeGroat

 Don’t tell me that my desire to remain soft and pointed makes me weak.

I’ve seen what sharpness does.

How it cuts - yet how it builds distance

between each other.

How it feels powerful - but how it leaves a scar of loneliness behind.

Leaning into my feelings

doesn’t mean I’m fragile—

it means I am brave enough

to sit in a thunderstorm of them

without running for shelter. 

I’ve learned to hold

the trembling parts of myself

the way a mother rocks

a child who doesn’t yet know

how to sleep through the night.

A lullaby may be gentle,

but it echoes longer

than any shout.

Maybe I want my life

to be a whispered song—

not loud,

not showy,

but unforgettable

in the quietest places of you.

Maybe I want to wrap myself

in the spider silk of kindness—

so thin you might miss it,

but strong enough

to carry the weight

of the world’s aching.

I know what it is

to feel too much.

I’ve been told to toughen up,

to harden,

to stop caring so deeply.

But I politely refuse.

Being gentle

doesn’t mean I’m not fierce.

It means I’ve chosen

to weave my fire

into something

that warms

instead of burns.

The last light of day

always looks a bit soft,

and formless doesn’t it?

But you know as well as I do—

it holds the same power

as high noon.

It just doesn’t need

to prove anything.

That’s how I want to be.

Not loud.

Not hardened.

Not armor-plated.

Not a howling wolf 

- but a hushed light at dusk

kissing your forehead

before the darkness moves in.

A quiet presence

that doesn’t beg for notice—

but is still strong enough

to stay.

And my love,

that isn’t weak.

It’s absolutely wondrous.

(john roedel)