What are you curious about?
Why do they linger, silent, still,
While shadows weave a wicked will?
Is it fear that grips the spine,
Or doubt that clouds the righteous line?
Do they freeze beneath the weight
Of conscience caught in hands of fate?
Or does the heart, in hush, delay—
Not knowing how to turn the day?
Perhaps they hope another tries,
Or tremble ‘neath accusing skies.
Not all who see will take the part—
Some watch with hands, not with the heart.
I ponder deep—why hearts stand still,
While wrong unfolds against our will.
Though fear may grip the soul so tight,
And shadows urge us into flight—
One need not charge into the flame,
Nor shout aloud, nor seek out fame.
There are ways, quiet and unseen,
To pierce the dark, to intervene.
A call for aid, a flare thrown near,
A spark to make the lawless fear.
To let them know, through smoke or light,
That someone’s watching through the night.
For every soul, in silence too,
There’s always something one can do.
No act too small, no step too slight—
To turn the tide, to stand for right.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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