Grateful?
We were told to be grateful
for roofs that didn’t leak too much,
for bread that tasted like survival,
for borders that didn’t shoot on sight.
We were told peace was a gift
as if it hadn’t been built
on the backs of the voiceless
the hidden
the forgotten
as if silence were something holy.
They love our resilience,
but not our rage.
They quote our pain
and call it progress.
But I am done being their moral lesson.
My peace will not come softly
It will come with truth under its nails
dragging justice into the light,
refusing to apologize
for existing
So yes,
I am grateful
but not how they want me to be.
I’m grateful
that we are not done speaking,
and that our words,
sharp and uninvited,
still reach them
where it hurts to listen.
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