1. Silent

From the recording Revolution ( Digital Download)

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By Paula Cole

When Karl and his sister, united me in their tribe,
I felt a strength in numbers embolding my shyness.
I laughed at other people,
At their bodies, at their hair,
I became the vicious girl inside parroting her despair.

And one day cold as calculation, Karl went too far,
Intentional in his hurting, physical in his war,
To the shyest one of all of us,
The tenderest lonely heart,
I watched in horror, helpless, silent, as the moment passed me, gone….

Flying to the world tour, 25 and free
With condescending attitudes, from British men in cliques,
When I imbibed too much Schnapps one night, in a Swiss hotel,
One tour manager, felt this was the green light, pressed me down,

On the bed, by my surprise, dick and tongue pressed hard
What a sad excuse of a man, thinking this what one does.
Showing him out with deep disdain I kept the truth concealed,
Cutting myself off from my own feelings, I kept on in silent hurt…

My introversion in the kitchen, 30 years past, amongst the Moms
I don’t share with them my secrets, staying safe from all their gossip.
Their husbands in the parlor, Huddled close together,
Palpable discomfort when I join them in their circle,

Looking for a conversation I listen to them speak,
Jockeying one-upmanship, subconscious insecurity,
I add my twenty cents to the room - how flatly it does land,
Unaccustomed to a woman of mind, they wish to conquer me instead.

“Hush, child!” - I hear my great grandmother whisper in my mind,
It remains as relevant today here amongst this boring party
I don’t know where I stand
I go rogue, go quiet quicksand,
Folding into myself, losing voice, to a moment passed again…

Absorbing painful lessons, standing on my ground,
I advocate, I’m blue in the face, I’m the leader of the crowd,
But inside I’m a coward, still the little girl,
Bystanding in my silence next to Karl bullying her.

For nothing is so simple, the bully is the weak,
Afraid to be tormented, tormenting for pre-empting.
For Karl yearned for Father, for love, for attention,
He acted out the monster inside his lonely hurting.

There is never enough love, there is never enough listening.
There is never enough of our mothers, to give us all we’re missing,
I took on the silence, mandated by generations,
But no more shall I be the mute and deaf and dumb submissive…