For anyone who’s ever fought to stay unbroken in a world that wanted them smooth and silent.
This poem is inspired by the word prompt “piety.” But not the kind that wears robes or whispers in pews.
It’s about a different form of devotion—the daily ritual of staying real in a world that keeps trying to sand down your edges.
This poem is for the ones who survived houses built on control, who learned how to carry fire in their throat and never called it a blessing.
The metaphors here are hard-earned:
- A home of “loaded questions” is one where love was always conditional.
- To be “sanded” is to be shaped against your will—made to fit into someone else’s design.
- And to “recalibrate” instead of kneel? That’s resistance with intent.
This poem is piety, redefined—a gritty kind of loyalty to the self.
Grain Against Grain
He built a house
out of loaded questions
and called it love.
I learned to sleep
with thunder in my throat
and silence between my teeth.
My spine became
a protest sign
he couldn’t tear down.
I wasn’t raised—
I was sanded.
But the grain fought back.
Now, I wear my damage
like a custom jacket—
stitched in panic,
lined in rage.
This world wants soft shapes.
I come with corners.
I don’t kneel.
I recalibrate.
Call it piety
if you must—
this ritual of staying
unflattened.
(c) Eric Montgomery
Did you enjoy this poem?
Did you enjoy Grain Against Grain? Your support means everything to me as an independent author!
Check out my published work, including exclusive ebooks not available elsewhere, on my Payhip Store.
And… if you’re looking for more creative inspiration, tune in to my podcast “Prompted!” where we explore new writing prompts and ideas every week!
Subscribe and Listen Today!