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Calling All Poets
Would you like to share your poetry with The Miner Newspapers? Email typed poems to [email protected] no later than 5 p.m. on Fridays for possible inclusion in the following week’s newspaper.
A man stood in the light, his voice bare, his words sharp enough to draw both love and fire. He was not silence, he was not shadow.
He was presence— unafraid, unhidden.
And though one shot stole his breath, it could not steal his echo.
Because words do not die.
They outlive the body, they outlast the bullet, they carry forward like flame passed from wick to wick. Call him polarizing, call him bold, call him stubborn, call him true— but never call him silent. Charlie Kirk has fallen, but his voice remains.
And we are left with the choice: to hide in silence, or to stand in words.
Because in the end, silence is easy.
But words— words endure.
- Marin Vale
