There are some voices that are unheard.
There are songs left unsung.
There are stories that remain untold.
There are bones left unfound, crimes unreported, injustices long forgotten.
Up in the mountains and out on the plains and deep in the city.
They are lost.
There are some that never cry out. No matter how intense the pain.
Some have fallen never to rise.
And their words are unwritten.
His legacy is lost. The story not just incomplete… but missing.
Her character and actions and whatever bravery and fear
Are not remembered.
And some, without noise or word… do rise again.
And fall and rise again.
And with a brave smile they walk among us.
Telling nothing. Singing no song.
And their legacy is resilience.
Their character is perseverance.
Wars were fought.
The blood seeped into the earth without fanfare
And pain went unfelt.
The sun made its way across the sky without notice.
The tree fell in the forest.
Drama was acted.
The curtain rose and fell in an empty theater.
They are the brave rocks worn smooth by flowing water
and the rust upon forgotten iron.
They are the heroic wood weathered gray, twisting in the sunlight
And the sand blowing in the air.
You did not report. You did not cry out. You did not sing.
Your story remains untold.
But you did something more.