How to Swallow Glass

by Ebenezer Mowete

They said: Be strong. So I

clenched my jaw and swallowed

every sharp word they threw

at me.

Image credit: Marika Vinkmann on Unsplash

I became a house with no windows,

a mouth with no language for pain

that doesn’t scream.

At twelve, I learned that silence

can be taught like arithmetic. At

seventeen, I perfected the art of

disappearing in plain sight.

I smiled. I passed. I performed.

A brown-skinned boy with

unbroken posture, unspoken

grief.

But glass doesn’t dissolve.

It gathers.

In the throat.

In the gut. In the poems

I write when no one is

looking.

And now, with every word,

I bleed. Not

for pity— but

for proof.

That I survived.

That I am still here.

And that every cut was

a doorway.

***

Ebenezer Mowete

Ebenezer Mowete is a Nigerian writer and final-year medical student with a passion for telling faith-rooted, socially conscious stories. His work explores the intersections of spirituality, science, and African identity, often through the lens of speculative fiction. He has been published in several platforms committed to amplifying African voices. When he’s not writing or studying medicine, he facilitates youth development initiatives and curates health advocacy content.