Stand up.
Speak up.
But -
When it comes to a Black person -
You -
Just shut up
It’s funny how -
When it comes to us needing help,
Selective mutism is your only way out.
We fight the big fights,
Play the role of superhero - day and night,
We are heroes without the capes,
And yet when we need support, you hide behind the drapes,
Every other race is given grace,
But when it comes to us, no matter what we do - we are called a disgrace
When a Black person needs protection,
They see our skin, and - accuse us of seeking attention,
When we practice our right of self defence,
We are accused of a criminal offence,
Seen as criminal, for standing our ground
Then we are seen as a danger to be around.
Stand up.
Speak up.
But not for a Black Person,
Stand up.
Speak up.
If you are not Black, they won't see you as criminally liable,
Stand up.
Speak up.
Not to defend us, just to label us criminals.
I want to be powerful
and have a voice that matters
I want to silence wars and battles
be the reason glass shatters
I want my whispers to be booming
and my shouts to threaten thunder
I want to live afraid of silence
and never have to wonder
I want my words to be greater
than speeches made by kings
I want to teach the world to listen
to hear the flutter of my wings
I want to be famous for my voice
and not the silence that engulfed me
I want my words to hold such power
that they leave no room for enquiry
I almost died in silence
so I want to live out loud
I want to show the world I matter
and stand out from the crowd
It feels like a lock
Click
slamming shut on a door I used to walk through without thinking.
Words
they pile up inside me.
Not gone.
Not lost.
Just trapped.
Like a river swelling against a dam that will not break.
My mouth is stone.
My body heavy.
And every attempt to speak is like running in a dream:
legs sinking,
distance endless,
the finish line always just out of reach.
Inside, I am screaming.
Inside, I am whispering.
Inside, I am still me.
But you can’t hear me.
Because the silence is thick.
Not empty, no.
Thick with frustration,
thick with shame,
thick with the ache
of wanting
so desperately wanting to be understood
without having to explain.
So don’t rush me.
Don’t push me.
Stay.
Wait with me
in the quiet.
Because this silence
is not absence.
It is survival.
It is my body saying:
enough.
And when I return
when my voice crawls back
know this:
I was never gone.
I was always here.
Behind the glass.
Behind the lock.
Still me.
Always me.
Parlance of pregnant silence
An effective weight in anticipation
I didn't ran out of words
Nor mutism rained on me
We just became close allies
Another expression, a new attire
For sometimes when uttered
Even words become more invisible~Dr. Samiha Zubair
Alone in a world trapped in my head
Thinking of the past laying in bed.
Random moments will come over me
When all I’ll do is think and breathe.
No words will form from my lips
A brief verbal eclipse
Numerous reasons ranging
Personality unchanging, while emotions exchanging.
Words and “smiles” shared so often their meaning taints
Cares and interests we faint
All to please the eye of another
The numerous expectations begin to smother.
So many thoughts locked in my head
Everyone leading to a sense of dread
My lips grow heavy like your eyes at night
Both shall close and be alright
Let me stay in my little world
In blankets warm and curled
Everything will be alright
When you come to embrace the night.
You were sitting on a honeycomb
I wanted a life
without stink or stain.
Intently staring at every celebration
listening to every sound,
and warding off the hissing reptiles
near my ladder.
Nature, I do not want to fight with.
Grief brings psoriasis,
the eternal itch and restlessness.
I scream at every red patch,
my unreadable pain forgets the date.
Mutism was not the answer
to protect the purity of tongue.
Silence was not a golden word.
Without becoming hoarse
one can shout to tell the dimensions.
SATISH VERMA
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