Submerged in a crowd,
yet always alone.
Speaks what is allowed,
measuring voice tones.
Scared to talk too loud,
unsure of unknowns.
Actions can be plowed,
words form a cyclone.
Wipes sweat off both brows
intentions are owned.
Standing firm and proud,
as still as a stone.
Feel no need to bow,
nerves are overthrown.
Inner light a shroud,
empowering throne.
– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy