Radical Softness (For The Ones Who Still Care)

They call it weakness,
this aching in your chest when you see someone hurting.
They scoff at your open hands,
your voice that trembles with empathy,
your willingness to hold space
for pain that isn’t your own.

They call it naïve.
Idealistic.
Fragile.
As if kindness were a glass to be shattered,
instead of a flame to be kept alive
in the wind.

In a world that rewards sharpness,
you are still choosing to be soft.
Still offering warmth
where others offer warnings.
Still building tables
while they build walls.

You ask, How can I help?
while they ask, What’s in it for me?
You carry blankets into the cold
as they count the cost of compassion.

And yes,
you’re tired.

Because caring hurts.
Because watching people choose hate
again and again
feels like standing barefoot in snow
while they light fires just to watch them burn.

But hear this:

In a culture that teaches us to harden,
to numb,
to celebrate the sharp edges of survival—

You,
with your softness intact,
with your heart still breakable and beating—

You are the radical.
You are the rebellion.
You are what makes the world still worth saving.