What does it feel like to be powerless?

The hands that you want to wave are weighed down by insecurity.
The feet you want to stomp are chained together with uncertainty.
The voice you want to raise is muted by anxiety.
The heart that wants to soar out of your chest is stilled with fear.

What does it mean to be powerless?
It means that the voices you feel are ringing are really just in your head.
It means that the lives you feel are changing are just those that you imagined.
It means that the people who were meant to hear you aren’t listening.
It means that the soul within you that’s burning with passion…has died out.

Who are those unfortunate ones who are powerless?
They are the ones who stay up into the depths of the night working.
They are the ones who pour their hearts out into every step they take.
They are the ones who take the blow for the fall of humanity.
They are the minority.

Where does power even come from?
Power comes from those who are aware.
Power comes from those who are influential;
Those who have mastered the skill of persuasive speech.

Those who were born to be leaders;
who break the rules that are meant to be broken but observe the ones that will lead us in the right direction.
They are those who are terrified.
Those who are risk takers.
Those who are brave.
And loyal.
And good.
And yet, in some sense, they are too, powerless.

All it takes is one gust of wind to change the direction of the falling leaves.
All it takes is one word to change the mind of thousands.
All is takes is one mistake that will never be forgiven.

Who do we know that are powerless?
Are they the glorified ones who sit upon their fragile thrones of popularity?
Are they the unidentified ones who we pass on the street?
Are they the dying ones who lay in their imprisoned rooms awaiting the inevitable end?
Or are they the ones who stare back at us in the mirror every morning?
The ones who magnify every insecurity and heighten every fear.
The ones who are constantly followed by a shadow; over-bearing, ominous, and heavy.
The ones who are controlled by the ticking hands of the clock and the silencing powers of the setting sun.

We are the powerless ones.
We are the ones who let the pressure of our failures outdo our strive for success.
We are the ones who let our pasts ruin our future.
We are the ones who let our need for clarity outshine the necessity of doubt.
We are the ones who are powerless.

Or so we think.
Do we have it in us to change who we are as people?
To pick up our shattered pieces off the floor and haphazardly glue them back together?
Can we wave those hands that are weighed down by insecurity?
Can we stomp the feet that are chained together with uncertainty?
Can we raise that voice that has been muted by fear?
Are. We. Powerless?

The author is Hannah Emanuelle Gulko.



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