After The Hush: Echoes Of A Soft Rebellion

A Three-Part Poetic Essay From Being Human

Healing rarely walks in straight lines.
It loops. It echoes. It hushes, then howls.
And sometimes, what feels like repetition is actually deepening —
the soul returning to the same truth, but with new hands.

ACT I — The Inner Tremor

After the Hush

First there’s a recognition – something isn’t right.

There’s a realising just before the becoming — we think it begins later, but no — it starts the moment we notice.

The hush may fall after a storm, or while you count your life’s paper-cuts.

Either way — the becoming has begun.

There’ll be a reckoning. A thunder. Or a whisper in a reel. But you’ll know.

Your rebellion has begun.

ACT II — The Naming of the Masks

Living by Unwritten Scripts

We are born into blueprints we never designed. Taught to follow rules no one wrote down, except in the way a mother sighs, or a father looks away.

Living by unwritten scripts and social conventions – competing social eras, competing subcultures. Searching for authenticity in a world of masks and mythologies.

Ah, the conditionings. Passed down like family heirlooms no one asked for. Worn like ill-fitting shoes, tight across the toes of our becoming.

Let’s add the shadows. Shadow this. Shadow that. Conspiracy here, and another whisper there.

What ingredients! What recipes! What kind of cake-bake could anyone expect?

We’re handed flour made of silence. Sugar spun from shame. Eggs cracked with generational grief. And still they ask why the batter curdled.

We live by scripts we didn’t write. Scripts written in ink we didn’t see, until we woke up mid-scene and realised we were acting.

But something stirs now, doesn’t it? A tremor in the bones. A soul stamping its foot in the dirt.

No more.

This is the wrestle. This is the rant. Not against society alone, but against the silent abandonment of our own knowing.

We are not here to be polite shadows of ourselves. We are not here to live tidy lives. We are here to make noise in the silence, to bring the shadows into the sun, and stitch ourselves back together with truth and tenderness.

ACT III — The Sacred Rebellion

The Art of Unscripting

There comes a moment — quiet, but potent — when you realise you’ve been living someone else’s idea of a life.

Smiling on cue. Swallowing your wildness. Apologising for your light.

It doesn’t always come as a thunderclap. Sometimes it arrives as a whisper: This isn’t me.

And so begins the unscripting. Word by word. Mask by mask.

You begin again — not to rebel in rage, but to return to your own voice.

Soft. Strong. Sacred.

Reflection Prompt

Where have you been living by someone else’s script?
What truth is whispering beneath your hush?

“This is not a new story, but the next layer of it.
The echo that follows the hush.
The rebellion that begins, again.“

In Tenderness

Being Human