I'm dangerously passionate.
I'm a whirl-wind.
I'm quick to speak.
I'm a spreading wildfire when injustice is evident.
But today, I'm learning peace. I'm learning quiet. I'm learning strength.
For I've unveiled that I'm not stronger than the meek and mild.
I'm not better by trying to drive down those who threat, mask true identities, and force themselves to the top.
Instead, I'm quick and loud and powerful because that's all I'm capable of doing.
Instead, I'm too weak to be peaceful.
And I don't know how the peaceful do it.
How they stand ground without effort.
How they let it be.
How they hold their tongue.
They are so strong.
And I'm weak.
What people see as strength makes me the weakest person I know.
I can't handle who I am.
I don't have the strength to control these bones and this soul.
But I'm learning.
I'm trying to be stronger.
I'm exercising the muscles in my mouth that locks it shut.
I'm unclenching the heart chambers that allow patients to exude.
I'm widening my ears to hear silence in the noise.
I'm enslaving my soul to trust who He is.
It's not a cage, but a freedom.