Silence, I once thought, was my enemy.
Slowly, my friend, it has become.
It is not judgmental towards our weaknesses, our strengths, even
the bad and good acts we do to ourselves and others.
It is there when I am rejected or accepted.
It is willing to help me understand my weaknesses and gives me
insight into my character.
Through abuse, neglect, and rejection,
I was taught to keep silent, for I was not worth hearing.
How could I speak when I had trouble speaking?
By the judgments of others I learned, I was not valued,
I was not seen for who I am as a human,
only a body that is not measuring to the expectations
others so gallantly exalted to what is true, noble, right,
or what can help them feel better about themselves.
How sad I am finally knowing what silence is now.
My own silence and the silence of others.