A golden shovel poem
In the style of “Truth” by author Nikki Grimes

We’ll find no mercy in silence, yet we mistake it for the
Answer. Stillness conceals what dares to whisper truth
Beneath the noises we crave. Certainty is
A phantom; always present, but not touched. Not every
Light binds. Some expose, not harsh, but with day
Dripping slowly into your ribcage. We forget that we
are stitched from contradiction: hope and doubt. Still, rise
Is not ascent-it is choosing to move, when nothing is
Guaranteed to hold. What we call peace may feel like
Grief in disguise. What we fear might just be thunder
Teaching us how to listen.

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