The Language of Still Eyes

They covered my mouth,

but forgot my gaze could sing

of battles fought in silence,

of prayers wrapped in steel and light.

They said silence was strength,

but mine was a storm in still water,

a hymn between heartbeats,

a fire disguised as calm.

Behind the mask, behind the metal,

my gaze carried a thousand untold things

the ache of love unspoken,

the grace of battles survived,

the quiet vow to never bow.

Every glance became a language,

every shimmer a prayer,

every tear unshed

a universe held steady

by a woman who remembers,

and rises.

Even when words sleep,

my eyes remember everything

every vow, every mercy,

every storm I chose to face with grace.