You never asked for worship,
but I watched the way your hands
could build peace out of silence,
could fix broken things without complaint.

You taught me that strength is quiet,
that love does not shout,
that wisdom sometimes sounds like
nothing more than a deep breath
before the right words.

You didn't need sermons-
your actions were scripture enough.

In your eyes,
I learned that kindness holds more power
than pride ever will.

When the world became too loud,
you were the steady voice
reminding me who I was.

You never claimed to be holy,
but you lived with grace.

And that was enough
for me to believe.