They tried to bury me in silence.
They tried to stitch my mouth shut
with their shame, their fear, their disgust.
But even graves cannot hold fire.
I was born carrying a secret,
a body split between two truths
male and female colliding like thunder,
a riddle wrapped in flesh.
And for years,
I folded myself into shadows,
begged God to make me ordinary,
to strip me of this unbearable different.
But hear me now
my knees will not bend to shame anymore.
I am done hiding.
This body is not a mistake.
It is not a monster.
It is not something to be corrected,
cured, or erased.
This body is holy chaos,
the place where creation refused to choose,
a living testimony that God’s brushstrokes
do not ask for your approval.
I am the earthquake you cannot silence.
I am the storm you cannot cage.
I am the truth you choke on
but cannot swallow.
Pause and look at me.
Look at the flesh you feared.
Look at the miracle you named a sin.
Look at the beauty you tried to bury.
I am not your whisper.
I am not your secret.
I am not your apology.
I am rage and softness.
I am scar and resurrection.
I am the hymn you cannot sing
without trembling.
If my existence offends you,
good.
Let it offend.
Let it split your chest open
until you taste the salt of your own smallness.
Because I am here.
I am unashamed.
I am untamed.
I am thunder walking in daylight.
And I will never
never
crawl back into the dark.
I am done hiding.
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi
http://www.ifedolapoogunniyi.com
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi 