Writers Who Shrink

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-holding-red-pencil-writing-on-notebook-6860850/

There comes a time when fear doesn’t just paralyze, but acts as its own form of superiority. How dare we grace the world with our brilliance? Someone might come and take what is ours. How dare we venture to use our words to save a soul? Isn’t healing ourselves enough? Why, then, must we risk pouring poetry onto the concrete for the world to see? Wouldn’t someone come and take it? Won’t it get soaked into the soil? Won’t the birds eat it? What will happen to our brilliance once it’s exposed? Will it wither up and die like Langston’s dream deferred? We are much too wise to let these words go out into the world.

This is not enlightenment. We shrink to keep from shining, so we avoid the light. We avoid the truth: Fear is not growth, and hiding behind the superiority of the pen is not salvation.

Mine


The way my “no” used to get scraped
off the plate
like it didn’t belong there.

I used to think saying no was dangerous.
That my voice
was optional.
That my boundaries
could be bent
by someone else’s appetite.

So I chewed and I swallowed
society’s thoughts of what I should be.
It lingered in the bite I didn’t want to take
but did anyway.

Because saying no felt like breaking a law
I never agreed to.

I learned to shrink
before I even grew.
To please
before I even spoke
To disappear
before I was ever seen.

But I’m done swallowing silence.
I’m done seasoning my discomfort
to make others more comfortable.

My “no” is full-bodied now.
My “yes” wears boundaries like armor.

And I don’t eat guilt.
And I don’t eat shame served cold
on expectation’s plate.

I eat truth.

I eat meals made of my own choosing.
And this voice?

This voice is seasoned.
Bold.
Loud.

This voice is mine.


Is Anything Sacred Anymore?

Sometimes, I look at my people and wonder, is there anything we hold sacred?

If not our bodies, then what?

If not our history, then what?

If not our truths, then what?

If not our art, then what?

If not our relationships, then what?

If not the words we speak, then what?

To what do we hold sacred?

That is the question.