OBEDIENCE

By Syn Cyres

I was taught early

that obedience is safer than truth.

That silence earns survival.

That the more invisible I became,

the more I might be allowed to live.

So I folded,

and folded,

until I was origami —

a swan people could perch their fears on.

I was not raised.

I was trained.

To answer before the question was asked,

to swallow my tone,

to keep my eyes from burning too loud,

to fear what happens when I am seen.

They said “respect,”

but meant obedience.

They said “good girl,”

but meant keep your magic to yourself.

Even now,

my no still trembles,

my spine still braces

for punishments no one threatens anymore.

Obedience did not make me kind,

it made me quiet,

it made me pliable,

it made me easy to ignore,

But I am not easy.

I have lived all my life

in the reflection of Medusa,

not because I turned men to stone,

but because I learned early on

that power is punished

when it grows in a girl

without permission.

They called me terrifying

before they ever looked me in the eye.

So now,

I do not ask,

I do not explain,

I write in the voice

they claimed would curse me.

And maybe it does,

but finally,

it curses them back.

#DarkPoetsClub