For the love of all that is holy
absolutely NO.
Not a pause.
Not a maybe.
Not the polite lie that wears a smile
while sharpening its knife.
NO
with the weight of history behind it.
NO
with the echo of every boundary
I was once too tired to defend.
This is not hesitation
this is judgment.
This is the door slammed
before the storm learns my name.
NO to your hunger.
NO to your entitlement dressed as need.
NO to the quiet erosion
you call compromise.
For the love of all that is holy
I have bled enough
to know the difference
between mercy and surrender.
NO is sacred.
NO is a spine snapping back into place.
NO is the prayer that saves me
when yes would have been a sin.
Say it clean.
Say it loud.
Say it like a bell in a burning church
calling everyone home.
Absolutely.
Unapologetically.
NO.
For the love of all that is holy, absolutely NO
the words detonate in the chest,
a flare shot into the night
to warn the trembling world
that a boundary has finally learned to roar.
NO
like a door slammed so hard
the hinges remember it for generations.
NO
like a match struck in a dry forest,
a bright refusal that refuses to apologize
for burning.
For the love of all that is holy,
for the love of the small and stubborn self
that has knelt too long on gravel,
for the love of the quiet creature inside
who has swallowed storms without complaint
absolutely NO.
Let the syllables crack like thunder.
Let them echo off the ribs.
Let them be the first true prayer
you ever spoke
with your whole, unshaking spine.