Silence in Transit
A Slam Poem
I’m sick of headlines written in blood,
lives reduced to hashtags,
daughters turned to cannon fodder—
sacrificial lambs led to slaughter
by a broken system arresting justice
in the dark hours,
pointing fingers and kissing cheeks
in secret—
in gardens.
***
Adding another—
another name in the margin,
another grave dug by
hardened hearts without pardon.
***
They call you Queen.
Regal as you are,
your ears heard the scream
rattle steel beams
down the backbone of that train,
and still you ask what happened?
Violence happened.
Silence happened.
We call it “tragic,”
but it’s patterned—
it’s become automatic—
a culture built on power
where the tax is paid by
women,
by the poor,
by the refugee,
by anyone who doesn’t fucking benefit
from the pockets of privilege.
***
She came from Ukraine—
subscribed to the American dream—
surprised to find that war
isn’t the only nightmare.
Fleeing bombs to safety
only to make the mistake
of running into a blade she
wasn’t chasing.
***
A man’s hand became the landmine.
Indifference the shrapnel.
Security the siren.
Death, capital.
She wasn’t killed by one man—
she was assassinated by a system
that makes rhythm with no rhyme,
no reason,
no conscience,
no shame.
***
But don’t tell me this is shocking.
The clock is TikToking
for you while bodies keep dropping.
We call it “tragedy”
instead of what it is—
a murder culture,
patriarchy in public transit,
a world where women grip keys like blades
and still can’t make it home safe,
still can’t outrun the bullshit myth
that danger is the dark
instead of the man standing
too damn close.
***
Iryna.
Say her name.
Say her name till the rails shake.
Say her name till the city breaks.
Say her name till the skyline screams back,
till the silence cracks,
till the justice tracks.
***
Her death is not a tale of caution,
not a bedtime warning,
not a bullet point scrolling
on the news this morning.
Her death is a battle cry,
an uprising unspoken,
a wound in the world opened
and reopened,
a truth we can’t keep fucking burying.
***
So we raise fists.
We raise voices.
We torch the script of silence,
smash the stage of violence.
***
Because one girl should not bear
the weight of every woman’s fear.
Because one train should not run
on the fuel of blood and tears.
Because the world should not need
another obituary to remember
that her life mattered.
***
Don’t ask for calm.
Don’t ask for quiet.
Don’t gaslight those like her
whose anguish is riot.
Every heartbeat she’ll never have
is pounding in ours.
***
So don’t clap—
shout.
Don’t bow—
stand.
Don’t leave here the same—
leave here with demands.
***
Because if we breathe like nothing happened,
then indifference wins.
And I swear—
we’ll rip the silence wide open,
make it choke on the truth,
and bury it—
next to the violence it fed.
About the Creator
SUEDE the poet
English Teacher by Day. Poet by Scarlight. Tattooed Storyteller. Trying to make beauty out of bruises and meaning out of madness. I write at the intersection of faith, psychology, philosophy, and the human condition.




Comments (1)
While I respect what you’re saying, as a Charlottean, I’m compelled to stand up for my city—that incident was an anomaly; Charlotte is a city that stands up fir human rights. Yes, there was a failure that night, but blaming the entire city, especially when you look at how we’ve done our best to protect our immigrant community from ICE, I don’t think it’s a comprehensive picture of Charlotte and how we’ve done our respond to dark forces in our city. I’ve personally witnessed hiw this city comes together to protect the marginalized—that’s why we were targeted ICE, to try to take that away from us. While this is an excellent poem, it’s ill-timed and casts a negative light on Charlotte for an isolated incident that happened months ago while we’re responding to a feral, federally endorsed threat to our community.