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When Silence Becomes a Weapon (Poetry)
How I carried the cost of quiet and found the courage to speak
This piece is a companion to I Wrote This Because Silence Has a Cost, exploring how silence shaped the world I inherited and the one I left behind.
I wrote the following poem because silence always leaves its mark —
a wound we never see until the damage is done.
We carry it quietly, pretending it’s not ours to own,
but eventually, it demands payment, and we are left holding the debt.
The Weight of Quiet Hands
I closed my eyes, said not my war —
Their wounds, their pain, their care.
Yet silence breeds its quiet harm,
And mine was hidden there.
Raised by those who shunned the fight,
Yet hunted, fished, and prayed.
Pacifists behind closed doors,
Avoiding worldly fray.
They prayed for peace, denied the storm,
With whispers kept us blind.
But sheltered truths still meet the world,
And scars are what we find.