Where were you
When she lost her voice
The first time?
When the world
Told her that she couldn’t
You stepped aside
Wondering, watching
But not interfering
Because that would be too hard.
Too much blame
Is piled on people
Before they’ve even bloomed.
Because now she sounds like springtime
And she writes like water.
She builds opinions
Like bridges
And pulled power from
The scorn that used to keep
Her numb.
Silence is violence
When mouths are sewn shut
By dismissal
And the ink of rewritten history.
You talk so much game
For someone who
Shuts down the most
Magical person I’ve ever met.
And when the reckoning comes—
(which it will,
because even seeds remember
who tried to bury them)
she won’t need your apology.
She’ll be too busy
growing forests
from every ‘no’
you thought
would silence her.
About the Creator
River and Celia in Underland
Mad-hap shenanigans, scrawlings, art and stuff ;)
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.