Silence in Transit

I’m sick of headlines written in blood,

lives reduced to hashtags,

daughters turned to cannon fodder—

sacrificial lambs led to slaughter

by a broken system arresting justice

in the dark hours,

pointing fingers and kissing cheeks

in secret—

in gardens.

***

Adding another—

another name in the margin,

another grave dug by

hardened hearts without pardon.

***

They call you Queen.

Regal as you are,

your ears heard the scream

rattle steel beams

down the backbone of that train,

and still you ask what happened?

Violence happened.

Silence happened.

We call it “tragic,”

but it’s patterned—

it’s become automatic—

a culture built on power

where the tax is paid by

women,

by the poor,

by the refugee,

by anyone who doesn’t fucking benefit

from the pockets of privilege.

***

She came from Ukraine—

subscribed to the American dream—

surprised to find that war

isn’t the only nightmare.

Fleeing bombs to safety

only to make the mistake

of running into a blade she

wasn’t chasing.

***

A man’s hand became the landmine.

Indifference the shrapnel.

Security the siren.

Death, capital.

She wasn’t killed by one man—

she was assassinated by a system

that makes rhythm with no rhyme,

no reason,

no conscience,

no shame.

***

But don’t tell me this is shocking.

The clock is TikToking

for you while bodies keep dropping.

We call it “tragedy”

instead of what it is—

a murder culture,

patriarchy in public transit,

a world where women grip keys like blades

and still can’t make it home safe,

still can’t outrun the bullshit myth

that danger is the dark

instead of the man standing

too damn close.

***

Iryna.

Say her name.

Say her name till the rails shake.

Say her name till the city breaks.

Say her name till the skyline screams back,

till the silence cracks,

till the justice tracks.

***

Her death is not a tale of caution,

not a bedtime warning,

not a bullet point scrolling

on the news this morning.

Her death is a battle cry,

an uprising unspoken,

a wound in the world opened

and reopened,

a truth we can’t keep fucking burying.

***

So we raise fists.

We raise voices.

We torch the script of silence,

smash the stage of violence.

***

Because one girl should not bear

the weight of every woman’s fear.

Because one train should not run

on the fuel of blood and tears.

Because the world should not need

another obituary to remember

that her life mattered.

***

Don’t ask for calm.

Don’t ask for quiet.

Don’t gaslight those like her

whose anguish is riot.

Every heartbeat she’ll never have

is pounding in ours.

***

So don’t clap—

shout.

Don’t bow—

stand.

Don’t leave here the same—

leave here with demands.

***

Because if we breathe like nothing happened,

then indifference wins.

And I swear—

we’ll rip the silence wide open,

make it choke on the truth,

and bury it—

next to the violence it fed.