We are
The silent sons
Of silent men.
We were
Not born
This way,
But have
Grown so.
Slowly silent
A severity,
We were told
For our own good.
We climbed
Our fathers
Mt Moriah,
To find
No sacrificial lamb
But us.
Our father’s God,
Content to sacrifice
His sons.
To bleach their
Bones, on the
Alter of respectability.
Grey suits
Crushed into
Conformity.
I am the
Silent Son
Of a silent man,
Yet silent
No more, will I be
To masculinities mores.
I have served my time,
And paid my dues
To Patriarchal Gods.
I will claim my
Recompense, for I
Am no sacrificial lamb.
I am no more
The son
Of a silent man.
