I Am Don Poem by Don Subba

I am Don, the quiet storm,
The hand that steadies, the voice that warms
With hidden ice.
I do not shout,
Yet empires rise and shadows rout.
My table's round, but I'm the center,
A smile that bids the bravest enter
And leave their weapons at the door—
Here, I am peace, I am the war.

I am Don
I am Don
Keep your head low
When I move on
I am Don
I am Don
My word cuts clean
And the fear is gone

I do not beg, I do not borrow,
I buy tomorrow with a sorrow
Others feel when trust is gone.
That is the weight of being Don.
A father's kiss, a brother's blade,
The debts I call are never paid
In coin alone; I deal in souls.
I sit where silent thunder rolls.

So if you hear the name, be still.
My will is bedrock, mine the hill.
No need for trumpets, dusk or dawn—
I simply am, and I am Don.

I am Don
I am Don
Keep your head low
When I move on
I am Don
I am Don
My word cuts clean
And the fear is gone