Airplane Poetry Movement's, Poetry Prompt, 007 - 'I can't speak'
I can't speak this morning.
For what I am capable of, I could only throw empty words that were filled with air instead of my voice.
Shocked and terrified, all I could express was helplessness coupled with anger that my mom couldn't comprehend.
I spoke words that no one could hear and understand, I shouted.!!
But this morning I was muted forever.
Today I know languages that I can't speak in.
For the writer that I always wanted to be, all I can do now is write.
Write as much as I want to because that's all I am left with, brutal but honest words.
It's a fall into this forever abysmal silence.
Words hurt but not being able to utter one hurts deep.
This silence haunts, hurts and sure as hell, kills.
If Silence were golden, being silenced forever is the golden bane of life.
I have now joined the millions that won't speak.
People who think speaking up would be uncomfortable.
A mass that has accepted, applied and adapted to themselves the 'chalta hai' mantra for their everyday lives.
The janta that has become silent against domestic violence, against rape, against corruptions, against social oppressions, against suicides, against depressions, against being a pawn in somebody's game.
Today I feel normal like everybody else.
Although I can't speak, I can now very well hear words from in-between.
I am not whole now, for there is always a part of me that relates to being disabled.
Eyes that now search for the handicap box in all entrance forms because of the type I am now.
Handicapped, not by will but by social norms.
Conveniently comfortable in my silence while out there others wait to speak.
I can't speak but I can very well write,
So the question is, Are you listening?