I searched my heart for hidden faults.
turning every word over in my mind.
If I have wounded someone,
I would rather mend the wound than defend myself.
Yet I stand in the silence, confused.
wondering what I did that I cannot see.
I never meant for kindness to become a burden.
or for simple words to be received as stones.
What hurts the most is not being corrected.
but feeling condemned without understanding why.
So today, I choose silence not because I have nothing to say,
but because my heart is too heavy to speak above its own sorrow.
If I was wrong,
may I have the humility to change.
If I was misunderstood,
may I have the grace to endure.
For sometimes the deepest ache is not hatred or anger,
but watching a heart that meant well
be mistaken for one that meant harm.
