No More Southern Silence

 I've been the sweet one.

The calm one.

The sip your tea, fold your hands,

don't make a scene one.

I've been the "yes ma'am,"

the "I understand,"

the one who swallowed storms

so nobody else got wet.

But I'm not choking it down anymore.

Why must I fit 

into your pretty little box?

A box meant for display..

not for breathing.

Why must I be the cautious Southern Ms.?

The delicate laced peach,

ripened just right

for everyone but myself?

NO!

I am not your Sunday smile.

I am the midnight growl

that has waited too long to surface.

I'm the wildcat 

that has been pinned to the dirt..

claws curled under,

jaw locked with obedience..

and now?

Now I bare my teeth.

I will shout.

I will burn.

I will grind every soft spoken apology

into the gravel of my past.

If you tried to tame me..

congratulations.

You failed.

I'm not built to stay still

for someone else's comfort.

I don't need your permission

to light the sky on fire

with everything I was told I couldn't become.

You think I won't survive the climb?

Try me.

I've survived worse.

I am not delicate.

I am direct.

I am the karma

you prayed would be softer

when it arrived at your doorstep.

I am the storm at 2AM.

I am the sunlight that cracks your skin.

I am the feral bloom

that grows through pavement,

roots splitting stone like secrets.

And if I make you uncomfortable?

GOOD!

I'm not here

to make you feel safe

in the system that caged me.

I'm here to be

the wild, unstoppable woman

who doesn't flinch anymore

when her voice shakes the ground.