Member-only story
Blade
A short poem
As a child I was often scorned
for the volume in which I would speak
or the tone in which I chose to reply in
As a child I was raised to believe
that my voice was this dangerous tool
that does not belong to me
A knife that could only be used
with parental supervision
or approval
They all raised me to believe
that what I had must be kept
in some secret place
Far away from everyone else
As though there was nothing more
shameful or unruly
than the sharp, unwavering
voice of a young girl
So like them, I chose to believe it
Like most children,
I was afraid
So I obeyed and obeyed
Expecting the blade of the knife
to become duller with age
Though to my surprise,
the blade only sharpened
as I grew older
And with that sharp blade
came an inevitable willingness
to cut through glass
or anything else that dared get in the way
And it was then I learned
that I should not have been the one
to be afraid
