Let my actions speak
where my words can’t.
When promises grow tired
from being repeated,
may my footsteps finish
what my mouth began.
Let my consistency
be louder than my confidence.
Let my compassion
arrive before my explanation.
I have learned
that rivers never announce
they are carving canyons.
Trees never boast
before offering shade.
The sun never argues
that morning is coming,
it simply rises.
So let me become
like the seasons,
changing what needs changing
without asking
for permission or applause.
If I say I love,
let my presence prove it.
If I say I forgive,
let my hands release
what my heart has buried.
If I say I believe,
let my life become
the evidence.
For words can bloom
like wildflowers in spring,
yet disappear with the wind.
But actions:
they root themselves
deep beneath the surface,
growing forests
long after the echoes
of language have faded.
So let history remember
not everything I said,
but everything I did.
Let my actions speak
where my words can’t.