The Quite Between the Words

Conflict is not a thunderstorm.  

It’s the flick of an eyebrow,  

the rhythm someone's breath breaks,  

a single step misunderstood, misplaced.  

We think we know its edges,  

carve its curves, name its roots.  

But there is more beneath,  

a language of gestures unseen.  

A voice too steady, too clipped.  

A shoulder turned slightly leftward.  

The way someone holds their hands.  

The unspoken catching fire in silence.  

Before a word stains the air,  

bodies shout what hearts withhold.  

We wrap it all in logic,  

but wars begin long before words.