09/27/2025
A litany of commands coded as care. A chorus that gaslights the self until the inner world feels like a maze. Cynthia’s poem catalogues the slow arithmetic of being diminished — how invisibility calcifies into shame, how help is rationed, how rage becomes sorrow and then silence.
This poem is a map — not of healing’s tidy end, but of what it feels like to hold the broken pieces and keep breathing anyway. It is for the unseen, the misread, the overjoyed at being merely present. It names the violence and insists on the radical act of being witnessed.
If this poem lands inside you, let it be an invitation to reach out, to be held, to break the cycle of silence. Creation is resistance. Naming is a reclaiming.
https://mukoli.net/issue-4/cynthia-g/