Why We Keep Going

Because silence is heavier than the weight of being misunderstood

Photo by Ehud Neuhaus on Unsplash

Because the robin keeps singing
even after the branch
has bent beneath her.

Because a poem
can be a steady hand on the back
when no one else stays.

Because grief does not knock,
and neither do we.
We just arrive
with whatever language we have left.

I write
not to be heard by thousands
but to find the one
standing barefoot in a dim kitchen,
cup cooling in her hand,
reading by the light
of what I almost didn’t say.

Because silence is heavier
than the weight of being misunderstood.

Because sometimes,
a poem is the only place
where truth doesn’t tremble.

You ask, why bother.
I ask, what else is there
that even briefly
makes the heart
recognize itself?

Published in Everscribe Magazine

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Author’s Notes: This poem, “Why We Keep Going,” was written on the final day of Ellen Rowland’s April Writing Series, a month-long challenge that gifted me 30 chances to show up on the page. Day 30’s prompt became this quiet manifesto.

If you're reading this, maybe you're a poet, maybe not. Maybe you're just someone looking for something true. I wrote this piece as a kind of answer to that quiet question we all carry: Why bother? And my answer is, because a poem can be a small mercy, a light left on, a hand resting gently on the back.

If you're not familiar with Ellen Rowland, I hope you’ll look her up. Her workshops are generous and grounded, full of the kind of community and permission that make writing feel less like a task and more like a path.

Mostly, though, I want to say: keep going. Keep writing, keep showing up to the page, even when it doesn’t feel like it matters. It does. More than you know.

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As always, a huge THANK YOU for taking the time to read my poem. Without you, my voice would be a whisper just floating in the air.

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