'Words that Burn'

I come from lamb biryani and Onam feasts
Coastland fish fry and Malabar parotta
I come from 14-hour trips but loving where I go

I come from a home where valleys stretch wide
I come from helping my dad with the 'five-minute' job
I come from the weekly call back home

I come from cricket on a dusty street
Finding the middle with a battered bat
I come from the Welsh Dragon and the 'Bharat' flag

I come from two worlds
Stitched together in me
I come from Malayalam melodies and Welsh tales

I come from a bilingual vocabulary and infinite possibilities
I come from a supportive family and sufficient education
I come from a sky wide enough to hold my dreams

I come from unnoticed efforts
And the weight of my Grandfather's stories, spoken in Malayalam.
Woven into long afternoons under mango trees

I come my last name being pronounced in different ways
I come from questions of "Where are you really from?"
I come from knowing that I'm from more than any single place

I come from stories waiting to be told,
I come from drea.ms unspoken
From a future shaped by the past I hold.

Good night, I uttered to them
As the dark engulfed the Earth
And as the moon and stars take the light.

I watched as the waves crashed onto the shore
Right outside my crimson front door
My sons asleep, so sound and sure.

The sun lurks almost cruelly, behind
Waiti,ng quietly to be the blaze of the skies
Until then, we say our good nights.

The men and women alike shed their tears
As the miserable and broken feelings catch up at night
And as the meteors fall at night.

And finally the world is bright
The birds take flight
As the world receives light
All arise afterwards and feel delight.

There it hangs, on the branches of a tree
a butterfly in a cocoon waiting to break free
After weeks of growing inside the cocoon,
the marvellous monarch is ready to spread her wings.

As blackbirds watch nearby and wait for the fabulous fly,
a butterfly in a cocoon begins to break free.

At last, the fly is free from the darkness of the cocoon
she spreads her wings and shows off her style.
The birds marvel at this spectacular sight
As the butterfly has freedom, which we all desire.

There he stands, watching the scene unfold,
wishing he had the courage to break free.
He grew up with racism, enslavement and poverty too,
he feels as though he is trapped in a cocoon of his own.
He tries and tries to break free but is never successful,
his own dream crushed by those with no fear.

There she rocks, an old lady in her chair,
watching the man, wondering what he feels
wondering what it must be like to never have to practice your own posture before teatime.

She grew up with a family full of wealth and things to give,
but they never gave her the chance to feel free.
She never got the chance to slump in her chair,
or wear anything other than dresses that sparkled with diamonds.
She never got the chance to feel free.

There she sleeps, a young girl on a broken bed,
dreaming of a big house with a paddling pool.
She dreams of her school with bright colours in her mind,
she dreams of her and her closest friends laughing through a field of grain.
She dreams of her and her father watching movies together, but most of all, she dreams of freedom.

But when she wakes up, she will remember her country is at war,
she will remember that her school and her home were both bombed,
she will remember that her closest friends are still missing,
she will remember that her father is fighting in the war.
And she will remember that her freedom is gone and won't soon be returning.

Not everyone has freedom, so we must fight for freedom for all.

Deaf boy born in a old and used stables.
Deaf man will die in one.

Hearing boy born in gold-plated palace.
Hearing man will die in one.

Deaf boy loves to read books.
Deaf boy likes to play.
Deaf boy is told the only path for him in life is failure.

Hearing boy loves to listen to music.
Hearing boy likes to play.
Hearing boy has options.

Deaf boy is told he is a disgrace.
Hearing boy is told that he is a blessing.

Deaf boy is seen as a threat.
Hearing boy is a child.

Deaf man is unworthy of this job.
Deaf man has to leave his interview.

Hearing man is perfect for the job.
Hearing man begins on Monday.

Deaf man may or may not make it to see University.
Hearing man may or may not get into Harvard University.

We live in a world that doesn't play fair most of the time,
A society that judges you by how you look but not by heart
A place that is dangerous but full of kind souls,
A home that may be broken but warm and welcoming inside.

Freedom is a sense of happiness as if you haven't felt it before,
Freedom is like power and power is what is within you,
Freedom is like running free in a field of flowers,
Nodding their.heads side to side.

Freedom isn't going to come today or tomorrow,
Some say we aren't free until everyone is free,
We must fight for what's right,
I want my freedom just as you.

Freedom and power stand arm in arm;
Power allows for the opportunity
To break the painful, chained restraints,
And gain the ideal which is freedom.

Yet power can be misused, squandered,
Wasted, degraded
Leaving scars which linger
Long after the wound has healed.

Freedom is a complex web of ideas
Which is treated with such care,
And yet torn away so easily
With one action of another.

And so the light for so many suddenly falls.
Freedom is not so strong without power.

But we have the choice
To stand for the freedom of others
And provide many with the hope
Which lights their flame.

We must challenge the abusers,
And defend the oppressed.
Fight for those who have not the voice
To ask for their freedom.

Freedom is expression with no boundaries,
The weight of judgement stripped from your chest
To voice your own opinion without restraint.
Freedom is not a privilege but a right.

Freedom is strongest in the darkest of times,
Most powerful where there is the courage to resist.

I come from cuddling my guinea pig, my soft little friend,
I come from quiet moments I wish wouldn't end,
I come from caravan parks and skies full of fun,
I come from beach walks and long green runs,
I come from games that go on all day,
I come from a sister always wanting to play,
I come from the greatest family I could have ever imagined,
I am so glad that it all happened!

A room full of people
Yet I still feel alone
People around but the silence
made their presence feel distant
All around are people communicating
but yet silence is all I hear
I feel all alone with my thoughts
Me, myself and I
I speak with my thoughts sitting there, spacing out Forgetting all that's going on
I have people to speak with but sometimes choose not to Sometimes I'm unsure to share
Things feel random, I'm focused on something and then I'm lost in thought As I think these thoughts I wake out of them
To a friend asking, if I'm okay

Am I the secrets that were kept?

Being free like a bird,
Or a current in the sea,
I can run like a horse,
Or fly like a bee.

I can do what i want,
And when i please
Only because
There's nothing stopping me.

This is what-it means to have freedom, And live happily,
Without any restraints,
Stopping me.

Chains once clung like ivy tight,
Stealing voices, drowning light.
The sky was a painting cracked and torn,
A caged-up song, a muffled horn.

Freedom stood beyond the gate,
A golden.bird, yet forced to wait.
Like rivers yearning for the sea,
Or whispers longing to run free.

They spoke of laws, of right and wrong,
Yet truth had been ignored too long.
The keys to mercy lost in dust,
While hope lay broken, lined with rust.

Then came amnesty - its silver hand,
Soft as the waves upon the sand.
It sang like dawn through darkest night.
Scattering fear with golden light.

Forgiveness soared on feathered wings,
Like echoes where the robin sings.
Not just escape-but justice bold,
A flame reborn, no longer cold.

For freedom isn't just a dream,
It's more than stars in skies that gleam.
It's hands unchained, a voice unbound,
A heart that beats, a home that's found.

So let us break the walls of fear,
Let justice shine forever clear.
For in the arms of mercy bright,
We rise, we soar-we touch the light.

I come from a once war-torn country, fighting to be free.
I come from the ·obsession with learning the history of war.

I come from my great great grandfather, a prisoner of war.
I come from my great great grandad's escape, yet not knowing much more.
I come from my ancestors in the military, fighting for people to be free.

I come from generations of people, who are just like you and me,
I come from a question stuck in my head though, why couldn't they just be free?
I come from a time now, where we're slowly becoming more free, but in many other countries, many can't say the same as me.

I come from questions, many with no answers, yet my biggest question is, why cant we be free?
I come from ancestors who fought for people like you and me.
I come from the once war-torn country, freed by our ancestors.

The world is on fire
And we are the ones who did it.
I'm telling the truth, I'm no liar.
The lighter is in your pocket,
The fire is slowly coming inside,
Some people embrace its warm glow
But others it burned, left for dead by high tide.

We are the others, the future's Jane Doe
Charred in the sun
Laying down in snowless snow
The time to put the fire out is done.
We have been doomed for a time not too long ago
But maybe, just maybe, we can be the fire fighters
Instead of waiting for that deadly black crow
Or making more lighters.

Your whispers linger in the hallways, casting a shadow over me
Your words, sharp as knives, cutting deeper than skin,
Your sour laughter in the corner of my mind, that always creeps in, Your fake sniile that cuts to my soul and leaves an invisible scar.
Your grip tightens with every harsh word you say,
Your words that burn me everyday
I try to ignore it-tell myself it's just a joke, but I can't help feeling depressed
I try talking about it to my friends and family, but I can't seem to get the words out to explain
I try going on a walk to clear my head, but I still hear your laugh everywhere
I try avoiding you thinking that might help but you always find your way back to me.
I always wonder why you do this, or if it's just in my head
But your words burn and leave nothing but emptiness.

I was five when I first heard my name properly
The TH in the middle
Crunching gravel under my shoes like I'd never walked
before.

Supersonic amplifiers and spiderman badges, the things we
do and tell ourselves to make something cool. I used to say shalenj, but is it a challenge when I don't know any different.

I don't like silence, it's not peaceful.
It's just lonely noise that no one else hears.
Do I hear whatyou hear? Not on the bus you don't.
I'm listening to lnstagram to drown out the noise, straight into my head,
I ignore the hustle, the bustle, the muffle.
The beep of a low battery warning,
chords I've heard so many times I can play them on the piano.
How must it feel to not get that chance.

I saw a boy in hearing aids yesterday.
We didn't speak but we knew.
We're in the same secret club that neither of us asked to be in.
I see faces I've played rugby against before and never knew they were like me.
If I don't notice others are deaf, will you ever notice me?

I can't sign, I get by.
I can say hello but that doesn't make me part of that world.
I wave, I smile, I'm not in that club either.
Just close enough to feel the gap.
Most people don't know, it hides under my hair, is that fair?
I'm not part of the deaf world but I'm not in the hearing world either.

I'm standing on the bridge in the space between both.
And no one realises.