Today I realised
I owe some silence onto my becoming
As much as speaking out
It’s a knife edge in the quivering balance
Pushed to the side,
Marginalised
Browned and chargrilled?
Learning faster
While being caught between
Being delicious or exotic
Owning up our own shame
Or (trying so hard to)

decolonize!

I owe myself some silence
Distance is hard to realise
From loved ones
Who tell me
In hushed whispers
And narrowed eyed-acts
who I am supposed to be:
“A square peg in a round hole”
Fitting in
Really well
So much so that I am called
The best “conventional”
(act)
in town
Even when I am dying
On the inside

But silence is a hard earned name
In this world of the extremes game
You can only be yourself
Either hidden or exiled
Or Silence is a privilege
Maybe my friends with abundance
Can spare me some
Even though I would rather die than beg
For your easy to shrug
“Leftovers”
Even pity would be more of a reckoning
It would mean that you finally listened!

My silence
Nowadays
Is

deafening!

It’s a shutting out
It’s a pushing out
Rather than
Shutting down,
It’s napping
And shimmering
With barely restrained
Breaths

Unapologetic
About your
“discomfort”

Cz that is just a teeny tiny slice
Of the beginning
Of being whatever is called today
As “Woke”
But what I know as

Living.