Unlearning Silence

I grew up fluent in hush—
trauma tucked behind my teeth,
a whole language of pretending.
To be good was to be quiet.

But silence never saved me,
it swallowed me whole.
I mistook numbness for peace.
I called survival strength.

Now, I let my voice stretch.
Even when it shakes.
Even when it’s too loud for someone’s comfort.
I write, I roar, I reclaim.

Every sentence a resurrection.
Every poem a rebellion.
My story is not a secret anymore—
it’s a storm with my name stitched inside.