Let it burn, but not too loudly

 “Let It Burn, But Not Too Loudly”

If I smell the smoke and say,

“There’s fire on the way,”

They roll their eyes and mutter low,

“That’s not her place to say.”

If I shout, “Get out! Get clear!”

As flames crawl up the walls,

They frown and ask, “Why yell like that?

Her tone was uncalled for, after all.”

If I drag someone through the door,

Their clothes still catching heat,

They say, “That wasn’t her assigned task.

How dare she leave her seat?”

If I cry, “The roof is falling in!”

They whisper, “She’s too much.”

“She overreacts, she stirs things up,

She’s far too loud, too tough.”

If I ask, “Why weren’t we warned?”

“Who forgot the alarms?”

They hush me like a problem child,

Like truth could somehow harm.

They want me calm while chaos grows,

To smile while people choke,

To pass out paper towels and mops

While everything goes up in smoke.

But I was not made of plastic parts,

Of fake concern and grace.

If a fire’s coming, I will scream—

Even if it’s out of place.

Let them sigh and scold and glare,

Let them call me names,

I’ll carry bodies from the flame

While they play their small, safe games.

I ask what any sane soul would—

They act like it’s a crime.

But I won’t sit pretty and let things burn

Just to be liked in the meantime.

By, 

Samara Sant