Resilience Ain’t Loud

Resilience ain’t loud — it don’t holler down the street,
it don’t wear a trophy or demand a special seat.
It’s the man who got knocked flat by frost in ninety-three
and came back out at sunup quiet as a cedar tree.

The braggers quit by Tuesday when the going starts to burn,
resilience is the Thursday man who never takes a turn
at quitting, at complaining, at explaining why he fell —
he just picks his hat up, sets it straight, and don’t tell.

I’ve known men built like mountains who crumbled in the rain,
and skinny boys from Lubbock who just kept on through the pain.
It ain’t the size of the shoulder or the fire in the eye —
it’s whether you show up again after the ground said goodbye.

The land will knock you down — that part’s guaranteed in full,
drought and debt and heartbreak and a market turned to bull.
She don’t apologize and she don’t offer you a hand,
she just waits to see how long before you choose to stand.

Showin’ up again — that’s the whole damn speech,
no podium required, no lesson left to teach.
The man who rises quiet after everything went wrong
is the loudest thing in Texas, though he never sings the song.

So I’ve been knocked down flat by things I won’t recount,
and every time I lay there wondering what the total count
of reasons was to stay down — then I’d pull my sorry frame
back up into the morning and go do the whole thing again.

Resilience ain’t loud… it’s showin’ up again after you already got knocked down.

I’m Alan Nafzger. Appreciate ya!

Last Updated on April 11, 2026 by Alan Nafzger