Who am I
that I let Him shame me
Who am I
that I lost my voice
who am I
that lost my way


I am he
who bore the unbearable shame
I am he
who knows the secrets that destroy men
I am he
who hears the silent screams

Those silent screams are not of pain
those silent screams belong to a wounded child
a raped little boy who howls in outrage
his whole body twisted as he screams in silent rage

a paradox
like the long teeth of fear
which after inspection have no substance
but the wounds they leave bleed and scar

the evidence of violence and wrath past
the open mouth but no sound, just horror

Bear witness as you walk past,
Dare you to judge me?
Walk a mile in my shoes have you?
Don my anger like a garment, and hear the screaming...

It seems like you are resolving that paradox trough your poetry and this poem.
You don't have to bear that shame anymore.
You've found your voice.
You've found your way - I dare to say!

Pero

awesome once again.. your poetry is so strong and it gives a voice...

jayy