The Quiet Defiance

There are those who wage peace
Like others wage war,
Their weapons: a shared cup of tea,
A door held open,
A smile that crosses battle lines
Without a passport.

They practice rebellion
Through radical acceptance,
Their resistance as soft
As morning dew on grass,
Yet stronger than concrete walls
Of hatred.

These quiet warriors
Plant gardens in war zones,
Share bread with “enemies,”
Teach children to sing
Songs from both sides of the fence -
Their defiance wrapped in gentleness.

They refuse the intoxicating wine
Of righteous anger,
Choose instead the clear water
Of understanding.
When mobs scream for blood,
They whisper healing prayers.

Their courage doesn’t wear
A uniform or carry flags,
It shows in small gestures:
A hand extended across divides,
A truth spoken softly
In rooms full of lies.

They are the secret resistance,
The underground railroad of kindness,
Passing hope from heart to heart
Like contraband light
In darkness’ empire.

Watch how they move:
Steady as roots beneath soil,
Patient as stars above chaos,
Their power flowing quiet
As underground streams,
Wearing away the bedrock
Of blind certainty.

Each act of compassion
A pebble in the shoe
Of marching extremism,
Each moment of grace
A crack in the foundation
Of hatred’s cathedral.

They know the secret:
That peace doesn’t need
To shout to be strong,
That love doesn’t require
Ammunition to prevail,
That the gentlest touch
Can break the hardest heart.

So they persist,
These quiet revolutionaries,
Building bridges while others
Build walls,
Their silence louder
Than any battle cry,
Their kindness sharper
Than any sword.

This is how light wins:
Not with thunder,
But with the steady persistence
Of dawn.