Poem: For Words are Powerful Things

WordsPowerful

 

I learned to hide

from an early age,

not behind

mother’s skirts,

or father’s

towering stature,

there was no safety there.

Instead,

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.

 

 

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