Reflection
This poem is alive.
It first arrived in fire — a necessary heat, a flare to refusal.
But it kept moving. And so did I.
What you read now came later, as a human question knocking on my ordinary life. It asks what happens when sight bends according to convenience — when something becomes “right” simply because the coin landed on the same side.
If She Left the Cave is the moment of illumination, and After the Cave the reckoning, and The Echo Tries to Root the testing, then this poem is the next motion: the mind returning to the street as a thinking heart.
It is not written to instruct but to interrupt — to slow the reflex that sorts people into deserving and prey, victor and innocent.
It asks what remains when we no longer accept power over another as truth.
Here, protest is simply thinking out loud as a human being.
The question keeps the metal warm enough to be shaped by compassion.
— a reflection by Corvalya
Return to When is it Right.
Notice what shifts.