Quiet girl.
The world moves in chaos around you,
Noisy, brash, electric, and you –
You do not make a sound.
You do not lift a hand,
Nor a finger –
Unmoving,
Except in your gaze.
Wise girl,
You are more aware of your surroundings
Than you let others think.
Your eyes,
Telescopes,
Looking far and wide
Your ears,
Beacons,
Searching and listening –
Surely,
You can’t be happy
With what you’re hearing.
Impatient girl,
When you try to open your mouth,
They are ready with the scissors,
And you can already taste the blood
Before the first word comes out –
“NO.”
Let those words come out,
“NO.”
Let your voice be heard,
“NO.”
You let yourself get drowned,
Tongue cut off,
Lips sealed shut.
You have been taught too long to be quiet
You have forgotten how to make a sound.
Instead,
You grow attached
To the needle and the thread;
To the numbing motions
Of stitching cross marks on your ideas,
Of sewing your mouth shut
Tighter
And
Tighter –
Little girl,
You have learned to become
A mere watcher
Of the abuse
The hatred
The madness
That surrounds you.
In the back of your mind,
You are
Still
Screaming.
And still
The only thing they hear,
Is silence
In the shouts of your pursed lips
Sewn shut.
Stop
Thinking that you are a damsel
Whose voice has been stolen
By the evil witch that is society
That your protests
Have been locked away
Like some magical ingredient –
You are the only one stopping yourself
From screaming injustice
At the top of your lungs
From objecting to ignorance
And indifference
You are the only one
Who can make yourself heard.
— z.l.
(A little piece I have in-progress, in honor of World Poetry Day and the many voices that are waiting to be heard)
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