#writfullytessie — Public Fediverse posts

What I Choose to Keep

I have known silence
in many forms.

As something that speaks.
As something that breaks.
As something passed down
without asking.

I have worn it
like a second skin—
soft in places,
tight in others.

I have seen it
hold love back,
turn warmth cold,
make strangers feel like home.

I have seen it
make monsters
out of men
who were only powerful
because no one spoke.

And still—
it stayed with me.

Not always as fear.
Not always as harm.

Sometimes
as breath.

As the space
before a truth
finds its courage.

As the quiet
that lets me hear myself
without interruption.

So I will not abandon it.

But I will not carry it
the way I was taught.

I will not let it
speak for me
when I have words.

I will not let it
protect what harms me.

I will not let it
be mistaken
for my consent.

I will choose it
only when it is mine.

Only when it heals.
Only when it holds.
Only when it listens
without taking.

And when I speak—

I will not whisper.

What I Choose to Keep

I have known silence
in many forms.

As something that speaks.
As something that breaks.
As something passed down
without asking.

I have worn it
like a second skin—
soft in places,
tight in others.

I have seen it
hold love back,
turn warmth cold,
make strangers feel like home.

I have seen it
make monsters
out of men
who were only powerful
because no one spoke.

And still—
it stayed with me.

Not always as fear.
Not always as harm.

Sometimes
as breath.

As the space
before a truth
finds its courage.

As the quiet
that lets me hear myself
without interruption.

So I will not abandon it.

But I will not carry it
the way I was taught.

I will not let it
speak for me
when I have words.

I will not let it
protect what harms me.

I will not let it
be mistaken
for my consent.

I will choose it
only when it is mine.

Only when it heals.
Only when it holds.
Only when it listens
without taking.

And when I speak—

I will not whisper.

FLUENT IN SILENCE

Silence has many forms.
Sometimes it protects.
Sometimes it connects.
Sometimes it carries what we are not ready to say.
And sometimes -it becomes the very thing that harms us.
This collection explores silence not as absence but as language.
A language learned, inherited, shared and,at times reclaimed.
These poems are not just about what is unsaid, but about what silence holds-love,fear, memory, power and choice.
-Nandipha Chibwe

FLUENT IN SILENCE

Silence has many forms.
Sometimes it protects.
Sometimes it connects.
Sometimes it carries what we are not ready to say.
And sometimes -it becomes the very thing that harms us.
This collection explores silence not as absence but as language.
A language learned, inherited, shared and,at times reclaimed.
These poems are not just about what is unsaid, but about what silence holds-love,fear, memory, power and choice.
-Nandipha Chibwe

To The Writer That Was

Oh, how I yearn 
to awaken the writer in me— 
to breathe life into these hands 
that once crafted symphonies. 

To let the artist break free 
from her formal shell, 
to summon the summer breeze 
and let creativity swell. 

But now my rhymes are rusty, 
my rhythm misplaced— 
the artist within me 
a distant, fading trace. 

Stories still linger, 
quiet and unsure, 
but where is my melody? 
Where is the voice I knew before? 

Where is the writer 
who once poured her soul 
into every word, 
into every whole? 

Have you been locked away, 
my dear friend, 
silenced by a mind 
that could not comprehend? 

Have you lost your way, 
or are you hiding 
from the light? 

I call out to you— 
return to me. 

For without you, 
life feels muted, 
a colorless sea. 

I miss the worlds 
we built with words, 
the hearts we touched, 
the truths we stirred. 

Each line a dance, 
each phrase alive— 
a quiet place 
where we could thrive. 

So come back to me, 
dear writer, 
come back and stay— 

and let us find ourselves again 
in what we choose to say. 

Returning to a creative self after a hiatus is both exciting and daunting. This poem is a personal call to the writer within me and a reminder to all who paused their passions to awaken what has been dormant.