Poem: For Words are Powerful Things



I learned to hide

from an early age,

not behind

mother’s skirts,

or father’s

towering stature,

there was no safety there.


I clung to the shadows

blending into the background

praying that I could remain

unseen and unheard,

though my soul desired

to be understood.

All I could wonder –

“Can anyone see me?”

“Can anyone hear me?”

and “Do I even matter?”

while my heart wept.

My value,

I was taught,

was equivalent

to my silence,

to my answering back

a simple

“Yes Sir” or “No Ma’am”

at the right juncture.

It mattered not,

if anything was just,

but that it was

what was demanded.

And despite

the changing landscape

from child to teen –

this lesson reverberated

again and again

though the characters

had often changed.

When I had a thought,

it was beaten down.

When I had a dream,

it was stolen.

And these are the lessons

I carry from you

up until this moment

and this time.

It is sad to think

that’s all

that remains of you,

those voices in my head

begging obedience

and I guess it’s no wonder

I refuse to be silent.

For words

are powerful things.


© Sumyanna 2019


Image courtesy of Pixabay.




2 Comments Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s