How Does It Happen?

I suspect many problems grow because too few people are willing to be the first to speak up.

Maybe we’re trying to be polite. Maybe we’re trying to avoid conflict. Maybe we’re worried about being labeled difficult, overly sensitive, dramatic, woke, or any number of other dismissive terms designed to end a conversation before it begins.

So we stay quiet. The trouble is that silence is often mistaken for agreement.

There are times when being a good neighbor, friend, coworker, citizen, or human being requires a little discomfort. It requires risking eye rolls, criticism, and accusations of making a big deal out of nothing.

Sometimes the people who are told they are overreacting are simply the first people willing to react at all.



Author’s Note: I wrote this poem a few summers ago when I saw racism take a more visible hold in our country again. At the same time, I was struggling with weeds from the empty lot across the street invading my lawn at the same time, so I tried to make a comparison between the two. The heat I mention in the last stanza is meant to represent putting somebody through a refining fire that will hopefully change hate into, at the least, understanding. Please share this poem if you appreciate my thoughts and want to help convert the toxic weeds that have invaded our gardens.

Click here to read more of my poetry. If you liked this poem, you might also appreciate this one.

Published by TheOtherKLM

I really hate talking about myself, but if I have to... I’m K.L. McDaniel, the person behind TheOtherKLM. I’m an introvert with extrovert moments, a fitness-minded person fighting later-age fat, and someone trying to keep life somewhat organized without pretending it isn’t a mess. Here, I write about the things I keep coming back to: movement, mental health, learning, self-awareness, and the strange little contradictions that make people interesting. I’m not here to act like I have everything figured out. I’m here to think through it, laugh when possible, and maybe find a little balance in the middle of the clutter. So, that’s me. More or less.

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