Do not mistake this asking for a fist,
for what I need is not to hold you down
but to be seen, to know that I exist
as more than pale cool shadow
moving through a familiar room.
Respect is not a kingdom, not a throne,
not silence holding tight another’s tongue:
it is the marrow living in my bones,
the breath that fills this aching body with life.
Deny it, and you do not humble my pride,
you hollow out this centre that is me,
until the man becomes a cavity,
a bombed out ruin no one wants to understand.
I do not ask for power. I ask for ground:
a place where being spoken to is being found.

 

26/4/2026