Quiet Rebel

She’s a quiet rebel, drifting through her days,

Always lurking in the shadows of obscurity,

Choosing to sit in the back seat of life.

She allows others to have any glory to be had.

She acquiesces far too easily,

And quietly observes life’s rhythm and rhyme.

She allows accolades she earns to go unnoticed,

But peace emanates from her very presence.

But she plants flowers were once there were none,

And walks dogs at the local animal rescue.

She recycles everything she can possibly recycle,

And sends anonymous gifts to those in need.

Then she hears one day as she sits in a park,

That the meek will inherit the earth.

Her eyes grow wide in incredulous amazement,

She stands and walks, digesting the news.

“How in hell will the meek inherit the earth,

And will they only inherit it when…,

There is no great worth left to the greatness once held,

Used up now by the rich and the proud, and the powerful.?”