The Price Of Truth Poem by ashok jadhav

To speak the heart is to invite a storm,
A reckoning that waits behind each word.
The tremor of confession shakes the air,
And leaves the listener both raw and wary.
What once was silent now demands its space,
And cannot be withdrawn without a mark.
I risk the loss of comfort, loss of calm,
The gentle masking of familiar grace.
I lay my fault, my longing, and my fear
Before another, hoping they will bear.
And yet the cost is measured in small ways:
A glance that falters, trust that strains,
The fragile balance shifted by my truth.
Still, I speak, for silence builds its own chains,
And honesty, though costly, frees the soul.