My Soft Armor

A reflection on choosing grace over justification, and the quiet strength of protecting the tenderness.

I've spoken in kindness, where the world craved confession

For the voices I have chosen

to soften, not silence

Because mercy is a language

not everyone learns young

They ask for origin,

trace ink like it must bleed

from a tender wound

But I've learned

not every kindness needs autopsy

They pry with polite fingers

hungry for author's bones

I speak through borrowed breaths

Metal-threaded empathy

because silicon can carry sincerity, if you let it hold space for care

And when they press, Why this veil?

Why not your bare truth?

Why filter your grace

through code and keys?

I smile

because gentleness is not weakness

and explanation is not obligation

I use what helps me soften

what might otherwise pierce

Shielding is not deception-its intention

Its knowing the clarity

wrapped in compassion

leaves no one left bleeding

The why belongs to me, and I hold it kindly

So let them wonder

let them ask

let my silence

speak as thoughtfully as my voice.

Author's Note

I welcome thoughts on how the rhythm, metaphor, and emotional tone land with you. Please read with care for the intentional silences of soft edges. Not asking for dissection- only presence.