I Wrote This Because Silence Has a Cost (Poetry)

Because silence isn’t neutral — it’s a damn weapon.

Image by the author @ezrakidowski, created in Canva Pro. Featuring a 1973 Pride Parade — Marsha P. Johnson, Joseph Ratanski, and Sylvia Rivera marching with bold, joyful defiance. A tribute to those who didn’t wait for permission to be seen.

The following poem was born from a long ache — a thread that winds through much of my writing, especially the pieces that explore silence, survival, and the cost of being othered. As someone who has wrestled with invisibility and the weight of watching harm unfold while unsure of when or how to speak, I’ve often lingered in the in-between.

After They Came draws inspiration from Martin Niemöller’s famous postwar confession, “First They Came,” which names the consequences of silence in the face of injustice. But this piece isn’t historical — it’s painfully now. It’s about what we let happen when we tell ourselves it’s not our fight. And what we must do differently.

After They Came

They came for kids with painted nails,
too bright, too soft, too queer.
They said it wasn’t hate at all —
just “truth” we had to hear.

They came for boys who wore the shade
of blush their fathers feared.
They banned the books, then banned the names,
to make us disappear.