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The Elephant In the Room

(A Reflection by Nandipha Chibwe)

Uncomfortable conversations require a quiet strength



There is a particular kind of courage
the world rarely applauds.

Not the loud kind.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not the kind that draws crowds
or earns standing ovations.

But the quiet, trembling bravery
of naming
what everyone else
is pretending not to see.

The boldness
of addressing the elephant in the room.

Of choosing honesty
when silence would be easier.

Because uncomfortable conversations
require a rare strength.

They demand
that we risk tension
for truth,
risk misunderstanding
for clarity,
risk temporary discomfort
for lasting peace.

Avoidance often disguises itself
as protection.

We tell ourselves:

“Now isn’t the right time.”
“I don’t want conflict.”
“Maybe it will resolve itself.”

But unspoken truths
rarely disappear.

They grow.

In resentment.
In confusion.
In distance.

Silence does not always preserve peace.

Sometimes,
it preserves dysfunction.

And so,
there is profound bravery
in sitting down,
heart pounding,
voice shaking,
and saying:

We need to talk.

Not to accuse.
Not to wound.
But to understand.
To heal.
To clear the air
before silence suffocates
what honesty could save.

Hard conversations
are not signs
of brokenness.

Often,
they are signs
that something matters enough
to fight for.

Relationships.
Boundaries.
Growth.
Self-respect.

It takes courage
to confront what is heavy.

To pull discomfort
into the light.

To choose resolution
over performance.

Because maturity
is not found
in pretending everything is fine.

It is found
in the willingness
to face what is not.

So here’s to those
brave enough
to address the elephant—

to speak carefully,
listen openly,
and lean into discomfort
for the sake of something better.

Not every hard conversation
will be easy.

But avoidance
has never been
the highest form of courage.

Sometimes,
the bravest thing
you can do
is speak.

#TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #bravery #BreakingTheSilence #RealLife

What I Choose to Keep



I have known silence
in many forms.

As something that speaks.
As something that breaks.
As something passed down
without asking.

I have worn it
like a second skin—
soft in places,
tight in others.

I have seen it
hold love back,
turn warmth cold,
make strangers feel like home.

I have seen it
make monsters
out of men
who were only powerful
because no one spoke.

And still—
it stayed with me.

Not always as fear.
Not always as harm.

Sometimes
as breath.

As the space
before a truth
finds its courage.

As the quiet
that lets me hear myself
without interruption.

So I will not abandon it.

But I will not carry it
the way I was taught.

I will not let it
speak for me
when I have words.

I will not let it
protect what harms me.

I will not let it
be mistaken
for my consent.

I will choose it
only when it is mine.

Only when it heals.
Only when it holds.
Only when it listens
without taking.

And when I speak—

I will not whisper.

I will not whisper

#Growth #IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Inspiration #WhyIwrite #BreakingTheSilence #Poetry #speaking #strength #WritfullyTessie
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THE WAGES OF SILENCE



He did not need to shout.

His voice was quiet—
the kind that lingers
long after the room is empty.

He spoke in warnings,
in looks,
in the space between
what was done
and what could be said.

And we learned quickly—
silence
was safer.

Or so it seemed.

Because silence
does not stay still.

It grows.

It wraps itself
around the throat,
settles in the chest,
teaches the body
how to keep quiet
even when it is breaking.

He walked freely
through our unsaid words,
unchallenged,
unseen—

made powerful
by what we carried
for him.

And I—
I held it too.

Like a secret
that did not belong to me.

Like a weight
I was told
was mine to bear.

Until I understood—

silence
is not always protection.

Sometimes,
it is the place
power hides.

#Hate #Loss #Pain #Reflection #TessieWrites #WhyIwrite #anger #BreakingTheSilence #hurt #Poetry #Power #rage #silence

FLUENT IN SILENCE

Silence has many forms.
Sometimes it protects.
Sometimes it connects.
Sometimes it carries what we are not ready to say.
And sometimes -it becomes the very thing that harms us.
This collection explores silence not as absence but as language.
A language learned, inherited, shared and,at times reclaimed.
These poems are not just about what is unsaid, but about what silence holds-love,fear, memory, power and choice.
-Nandipha Chibwe

#Art #Growth #IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Introverts #Pain #Poem #Reflection #Saved #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #Writing #BreakingTheSilence #brokenArt #ChangingTheNarrative #MentalHealthPositivity #Poetry #Power #purpose #Relationships #silence #TellingStories #VoicesForTheVoiceless #WritfullyTessie

To The Writer That Was

Oh, how I yearn 
to awaken the writer in me— 
to breathe life into these hands 
that once crafted symphonies. 

To let the artist break free 
from her formal shell, 
to summon the summer breeze 
and let creativity swell. 

But now my rhymes are rusty, 
my rhythm misplaced— 
the artist within me 
a distant, fading trace. 

Stories still linger, 
quiet and unsure, 
but where is my melody? 
Where is the voice I knew before? 

Where is the writer 
who once poured her soul 
into every word, 
into every whole? 

Have you been locked away, 
my dear friend, 
silenced by a mind 
that could not comprehend? 

Have you lost your way, 
or are you hiding 
from the light? 

I call out to you— 
return to me. 

For without you, 
life feels muted, 
a colorless sea. 

I miss the worlds 
we built with words, 
the hearts we touched, 
the truths we stirred. 

Each line a dance, 
each phrase alive— 
a quiet place 
where we could thrive. 

So come back to me, 
dear writer, 
come back and stay— 

and let us find ourselves again 
in what we choose to say. 

Returning to a creative self after a hiatus is both exciting and daunting. This poem is a personal call to the writer within me and a reminder to all who paused their passions to awaken what has been dormant.

#WhyIwrite #passion #Poetry #purpose #WritfullyTessie
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Fleeting Beauty

There is beauty in the ephemeral,in the fleeting moments we often overlook.

What a beauty it is 
to behold a sunflower, 
crafted with precision, so bold. 

Intricately designed— 
each seed, each grain 
carefully arranged, 
a testament to the Maker’s hand. 

What a joy it is 
to be a sunflower, 
with petals so fine and fair, 
lifting its face 
to the morning sun, 
finding warmth in golden air. 

To smile as the day begins, 
to follow the sun’s gentle spin. 

But as the light fades 
and evening draws near, 
the sunflower bows its head— 
humble, reverent, sincere. 

Like us, it returns to the earth, 
its beauty a fleeting gift, 
fragile and rare. 

Yet in its splendor, 
we see the Maker’s art— 
a masterpiece 
both delicate and strong. 

A rose is lovely, yes— 
but a sunflower, 
oh, that is a work of wonder. 

A reminder 
that we, too, are crafted 
with precision, with care, 
with love divine. 

What a beautiful, tragic gift— 
this life of ours, 
so fleeting, 
yet so profoundly designed. 

This poem reflects on how nature reminds us of divine craftsmanship in both the world and in ourselves.

#Art #EveningDevotionInsights #Newbeginnings #NewHabits #Spirituality #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #Writing #Beautiful
Create Document to Build Your Paperback Cover

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