OFSILENCE’S TALE

Ofsilence is calm,

Ofsilence is grey,

Ofsilence is in pain.

 

This gut-wrenching pain

that lives inside of her–

maybe it is her–

encompassed in this shell

Ofsilence.

 

It is writhing inside of her

as if she is in her mother's womb again–

kicking, lashing,

wanting to get out,

wanting to be born.

 

Ofsilence is calm–

but beneath it’s fragile surface of

ice– there is her

and a scream that lives inside her,

echoing in every cell of her body,

it creates a thunderstorm with lightning but

the downpour of this storm is also hidden,

unexisting above the calm,

hidden in the darkness of her room

with no eyes,

not even her own.

She is blind to her own name–

Is this emotion,

what they call shame?

​

Sitting on this table–

her eyes trace faces.

Faces of her people,

their daughter–her:

an intruder.

Within her– the human:

silenced.

 

Suffocating in her grave

beneath the thin layer of ice.

Frigid because of reality,

not the cold lies–but truths.

 

She is Ofsilence

 

but she is also– Ofscreams

Ofme.