On a Day I Felt Helpless

My silence is a weapon. 

Those who would know me,

My heart, my mind, my soul

— will not.

They will be left wondering 

Under the scrutiny of my gaze;

At times,

Withering,

Cutting,

Righteous,

Scornful.

Left with questions unanswered,

They will assume;

Create their own realities 

For me.

My Reality cannot be shaken.

They will see my smile but feel the heat of the anger of eyes where the smile does not touch. 

And they will feel the shame of their assumptions laid raw not by words but by a mere look. 

As I turn,

I bask in a world 

Where the privilege of my heart

Is given to those who deserve it. 

My silence is a sword that will not touch them.

They will hear the honeyed, musical sound of 

My voice

And my story. 

And they will know it as my internal masterpiece. 

A Mona Lisa of words,

A magnum opus of human triumph. 

A pity for those who will only know my sword

And not my pen.

They will never know my power.