Wordsmith Wednesday: Despite It All

A collection of poems about resilience.

This week’s poems are quiet acts of defiance. Not the kind with shouting or flames, but the kind that looks like a rose with no thorns. A whispered truth. A feeling you’re not supposed to have, but you keep it anyway.

Each of these pieces pushes back in its own way. Not with force. With care. With the refusal to be hardened by a world that doesn’t know what to do with vulnerability.

This is resistance. It just happens to be soft.

Valentine’s Day, 2025 by Sophie Lorraine Smith

In the bright clear morning, walking through the square on my way to Japanese class, I see, sitting on the edge of the fountain,

a Home Depot bucket full of roses.

A paper taped to the side proclaims that they’re for everyone who won’t be getting any other flowers,

so I pick one out and carry it with me to class.

The long green stem fits perfectly in my hand-

the thorns have been cut off.

Most people would tell me that it doesn’t count this way;

that roses are supposed to have thorns,

that there is no love without pain for someone like me,

that the laws of nature are owed a bloody price from my palm.

Most people would tell me that this world does not make any room for me.

I would tell them that they’re right,

yes, they’re right,

so, late into the night, cutting away the sharp parts

until only the soft touch of petals is left,

I will make one that does.

Fire in the darkness by Nocturnaliss

Sweet darkness embraces me

and I lose myself in its caress

Words and jests meld in my heart

A great world's prowess

A small world's duress

A soul dead among the ashes

of what was once a grand castle,

its lights long ago dimmed and exhausted

by hatred and violence, blinded

to the sorrow of the mind

Is it not true we are but fleeting?

Then why should I keep fighting?

Fighting for a world that will not save itself

Struggling to uphold vague concepts

like care, thought

and love

Struggling to balance wisdom

and elitist hope

But the darkness speaks not of silence,

nor of vengeance or violence.

The darkness breathes fire in its dark,

a beacon, a beautiful light

that sheds warmth in its wake,

never to surrender,

never afraid.

The darkness' voice has changed.

It speaks in breaths and gestures,

uplifts, reassures and cradles;

brightness in a world without candles,

lit by the fires of souls intertwined.

Only one path lies ahead;

renewal through destruction,

itself a word of a thousand contexts.

Untitled by Starcandyxoxo

We were watching twilight twisters find stars. Pearl moon and dew-dripped grasses, apple-pie toned leaves. Swinging from back and forth and back again. And singing of mountains high, valleys low. Star spangled skies, American flags in your yard. When we were alone, you’d hear my heart pounding over yours. Hanging down from monkey bars, you’d grab my hands and see how long we could hold on and pretend the world was upside down instead. My thoughts of you. And yours of my strawberry lip gloss. Darlings and shared dreams. 

Friends don’t do this, I’m afraid.

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