It's Time To Scream
And a poem about the things I've kept inside.
I should have said it.
Loud. Angry. Wrong.
I should have said it
And suffered the fallout.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said it instead of hoping on a ballot measure
Or believing that filling in a bubble was enough to stop
The rampaging hate ripping red lines through a country
Of golden fields worked by tired hands that like to dream.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said it, should have screamed until my throat bled
Because that is what I was taught to do at five years old
When soft old women, rattled by abuse, told me that someone,
Inevitably, would come to hurt me, kill me, steal me away.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said that they were right, that I am scarred and broken.
That men threatened my life, that I am a statistic of a statistic,
That I can feel the imprints of unwanted touch like ghosts on my skin.
And no amount of smiling more will cover up that agony.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said I've never met a woman who wasn't wounded.
I should have opened my mouth and let my own stories fall like acid
Without worrying about the pain it would cause the perpetrators.
Shame is a valuable tool and I should have said something sooner.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said that in my blood, the rainbow gathers, that I love all,
And that it is no good excuse for you spit at me or slit my throat.
I exist away from violence and shelter the smallest bug in my palm
But you are interested in bleeding the world and me along with it.
.
This is wrong.
.
I am other.
For my love, I am condemned.
For my gender, I am chained.
For my morality, I am slapped.
.
This is wrong.
.
I should have said that those like me do not deserve death for their love.
Go look in the oil slick sheen covering the puddles of fouled water,
Look in your reflection if you're interested in the death of love.
I promise it gathers there like a white nationalist rally, loud and ugly.
.
This is wrong.
.
I am a rebel lover, a boat-rocker, a cataclysm of kindness, a fire of freedom.
And I should have said that, at the start, that I would fight for my freedom.
Freedom to love. Freedom to speak. Freedom to live as I am without terror.
I will fight for the freedom from the dominance of cruelty and I will speak.
.
This is wrong.
.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (6)
Both real and surreal in the reading...but this line gave me chills: "Shame is a valuable tool and I should have said something sooner." Your poetic voice is unmistakable. Great writing!
"I am a rebel lover, a boat-rocker, a cataclysm of kindness, a fire of freedom." I love this. I see myself here, where I'm headstrong and will put up a fight. But I get it - the feeling of shame, the shame of being different and the hurt that comes with it. I get it. And the power of "this is wrong" - chills, literal chills! 🌱✨
That repetition of "This is wrong" is like a drum beat through the whole thing or a prayer. I love "a cataclysm of kindness" - such opposing images, speaking of destruction but it's such a great way to describe the power you hold, which we all hold, if we let it loose.
Holy hell, this is powerful. I wanna kick down a brick wall after reading that. Say it again - louder!
So many thoughts that I can hardly get them out! Yes to every one of these lines!! I wrote a piece along the same vein recently, and I keep asking myself how to be more and say more. The written word is saying more, especially when we share it. Loved how the power of each line kept growing. Shout it!
Powerful lines: For my gender, I am chained. For my morality, I am slapped. Recognition is a step to change