Shh

S
At a young age, I learnt to decipher a certain stare in my mother’s eyes. It was the keep quiet stare. I usually got those in church or at formal gatherings so much that somewhere in my tiny brain forming, I understood there was something called proper behavior when in public.
That stare was cold. Direct. Always pregnant with threat.
I knew I would get more than a whooping if I didn’t take heed and kept “making noise” (a.k.a talking).
SHH..
‘Where I come from, we are taught to keep quiet’.

‘Please be quiet!’
Probably the phrase I’ve heard the most in my life; disguised in chameleon shades of signals, stares, scolds and backlash. Somehow, subconsciously, I adapted. We all did. And after a while expression became a fantasy.
Imagine.
How easy it would be to speak, letting the words fall freely without fear of intimidation or disrespect. Just plain honesty.
Unfortunately, that’s not our story. We’re taught to get over things quietly, quickly and ‘maturely’
Forgetting that just like the way the sea washes sand off our feet, no matter how strong the tide, there will always be sand stuck in the crevices of your toes. We carry that home.
SHH
‘Confrontation doesn’t always mean conflict. I feel hurt doesn’t equal you shouldn’t love me anymore.

SHH
‘They teach us to be quiet all our lives, and expect the little ones to report when violated?
SHH
..Was the same thing her uncle said. It sounded familiar
SHH. Be quiet.
Be quiet and hope your eyes speak
Be quiet and hope people are not so color-blind that they cannot see the blue in our eyes.
SHH..
Tell me when it’s okay for me to speak up. Freely