Remember all the times 

your voice was silenced

when you were belittled

bullied

ignored

put down

until you were left 

tongue tied,

stuck to the roof of your dry mouth.

Has the cat got your tongue?

Remember all the times 

you were told to pipe down,

that you should be

seen and not heard

that it was unbecoming

to be of rebellious spirit

that to question, to challenge

the hierarchies of power

was to be branded a scold

troublesome woman. 

The branks snapped 

around your head.

The cold iron 

clamped around your face

muzzled like a dog

so the spit would drip

down your chin

through small bore holes

and your jaw ached

from the unnatural

position of metal against

soft cheek flesh

unable to speak 

This is what men did to women

they accused of witch craft

or of idle gossip.

This is what men did to other men,

who they bought at the slave markets

along the Gold Coast

the troublesome ones,

the ones who resisted

to be chained below decks

for weeks on rough sea

to be sold again

to plant and harvest

sugar that sweetened the tea

and cakes of ladies who

lunched and men who hunted.

Spit into your wound,

lick it better

now that your tongue

is unfettered.

Salt tastes sharp on 

humiliated skin.

Flash of green in your eye,

catches the tears of resistance.

©SCM 2020