Hold Still or Engratia

In the breath between offense and reply,
Where silence trembles but does not die,
There lives a choice — so small, so still —
To bend to grace or break by will.

Hold still — when thunder calls your name,
When pride ignites and fuels the flame,
When words like daggers beg release,
But wisdom whispers: Choose your peace.

Hold still — not out of fear or flight,
But from a strength not born of might.
The power not to strike, but stand,
With justice folded in your hand.

Or — Engratia — move to please,
Smile wide while your soul’s on its knees.
Give them a show, a polished face,
While shrinking silent into disgrace.

Engratia, sweet in sound, yet sharp,
It trades your truth for gilded parts.
To win their nods, to chase their praise,
You lose yourself in subtle ways.

So ask your heart in moments grim:
Will you be ruled by them — or Him?
Will you react, or will you rise,
And hold still ‘neath unkind skies?

For strength is not in loud replies,
But in the storm you neutralize.
And grace is not in playing roles,
But in the stillness that guards souls.