Crow and Flame

There comes a point in healing where you realize peace is more valuable than being understood.

I don’t have to have the last word anymore.

I don’t have to sharpen myself into a weapon every time someone disagrees with me.
I don’t have to exhaust myself trying to drag another person toward clarity they refuse to see.

Even when I know—deep in my bones—that they are wrong.

I can let them be wrong.

That is the strange freedom of finally trusting yourself.
Not everyone has to validate your reality for it to be real.

Some people will misunderstand you no matter how carefully you explain.
Some will twist your words until they resemble something easier for them to hate.
Some are committed to their version of the story because changing it would require accountability.

And I no longer need to throw myself onto the altar of explanation trying to save people from themselves.

I am not dying on every hill.
I am not throwing myself on swords just to convince someone to look at me with honesty.

Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is simply walk away.

Not because you lost.
Not because you surrendered.
But because your peace is too sacred to keep offering it up as proof.

A crow does not argue with the storm.
It simply finds another current of air and keeps flying.