Silence

This was just another heated argument

And my father rush forward 

Threatening to slap me.

I stop not;

Lay down facts hoping it would prick his conscience,

Hoping he would finally understand.

Yet I feel his fingers pressed against my face, hard

And my cheeks burning.

I know not, the feeling,

I couldn't tell if it was anger or shame

That bends my head.

And I let out a terrible scream

Of anguish, of something so deep to be called a name.

But I prepare myself to lift my head as high

And face him again when,

"Shush," says my grandmother, "People will hear"

"We never let our voices out the walls in our times".

And I cry, this time surely of shame,

On how generations of mothers pass down silence as the greatest virtue 

And voices loud enough were or maybe still,

Torn and thrown in the fire,

How she herself believes respect is meant only for a man

But not her.