What do you call it when you learn silence before you learn yourself?
In first grade, a teacher once said that she hardly knew I was there, that I was so silent.
Days later I sat in my dad's work truck, sobbing with the fresh fear of abandonment.
When he asked me what was wrong, I reached for what I knew best. You know, silence
Only matters when there is no one there to comfort you.
But still I kept my mouth closed, eyes big and glistening, and cursed myself in silence.
I once read a book about a Black girl who lived in her head.
Sometimes, I think to myself how hard it is to be anything but silent.
Sometimes my silence kept me grounded, calm as a lone dandelion in spring.
Other times, it left my sovereignty lying still on the floor. But silence,
These days, finds me on occasion. From time to time I sit
Waiting for when the day slips into night, and all you hear is silence
