Calyco learned this slowly but clear
Cowardice does not arrive as fear.
It looks like fire, truth tied to a stake,
Set alight by hands that could only break.
It looks like stones thrown from behind borrowed shoulders,
Voices raised safely from the backlines, hiding behind boulders.
Far enough to wound, never close enough to be seen,
Like laughter when someone is made small in public so mean.
It looks like taking and taking and calling it love.
Possession not affection, suffocating like a glove.
Tight hands that blackmail and tantrums to throw
No courage no boldness enough to let attachment go.
Calyco paused here, because this one was subtle.
It wears beauty well, layers of polish, symmetry and shine, A face constructed carefully that screams “mine, mine, mine!” It hides in not healing, in refusal to sit with one’s own mind, Numbing pain and anxiety buy mingling with its own kind.
Sometimes, it sounds righteous loud certain and unyielding.
A voice claiming moral high ground, never questions its own footing. And sometimes it spits hate at truth, because truth exposes all, Trembling underneath but in everyone’s eyes they stand tall.
But courage is quieter which Calyco proudly wore, Sometimes it’s just staying, it doesn’t always arrive as a roar. Staying in the discomfort long enough to see, When performance is easier, it chooses honesty.
It chooses accountability when blame is within reach.
It chooses to fee fully instead of hiding behind and preach. It doesn’t burn truth, it stands with dignity, Body shaking, its voice cracking, heavy with humility.
Cowardice chooses distance, to disappear in the crowd. Courage steps forward, chest broad standing proud.
That step is difference between Cowardice and Calyco.