How would you design the city of the future?
The photo associated with this poem is titled “Nights Calm”©️ taken by Felina Silver
I was not named by the blood of my line,
But by one who walked beside my mother
When she stepped foot upon Boston’s stone-laced streets—
A gentle sorceress of friendship, called Auntie “O”,
Who whispered names into the cradle’s hush.
Names feathered and forged without my consent.
The first—a winged thing, echo of sky-song—
Mocked by boys who heard birds before they saw me.
The second—a blade shaped in boyhood’s mold—
Girls wielded it like laughter, cutting deep.
Each syllable felt borrowed, worn, not mine.
I waited for the age of ritual,
When I could cast the name aside
Like a skin that no longer kept me warm.
I dreamed instead of a name born of wildness—
A creature I loved, fierce and untamed—
And wrapped it in moonlight, softened its edges,
Crafted it to bloom in woman’s form.
Let the world know:
I am she.
And proud to be.
The name I chose was not to hide,
But to unveil.
Not to silence the tomboy who kicked with boys,
But to crown her, whole,
A daughter of both wind and fire.
Identity is not in what we are called,
But what we answer to.
And I?
I answered to truth—
The deep magic of becoming.
Only the soul can shape its truest self,
Only the self can conjure its name.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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