“People who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real badasses.”
– Brené Brown, Rising Strong
As a child I never had a voice
I learned silence was best
But I kept a secret diary with a lock
and hid the key
in the heart of a shell
under the bed
There I let out a tiny voice
only I could hear
There I found comfort
only words could bring
There no one told me to shut up
and do as I was told
Years later that once
tiny voice
was ravenous
to speak
to write
to be heard
A thunder of words
broke through
the silence
and poured
onto the
parched paper
Unlocked words
flew off fingertips
and refused
to shut up
and do as
they were told
