Another Direction

by Jennifer Wren Call

They’ll say,
Tell your story,
but keep it between the lines.
Make it sweet,
make it safe,
make it something
we’ve already heard.

But I came
from another direction.
Not the straight road.
Not the easy version.
I walked in sideways,
through fire,
in shoes I had to make myself.

This is not polite.
It will not ask permission.
It will not tuck in its shirt
or apologize
for surviving.

My voice does not echo—
it cuts.
It bleeds truth into quiet rooms.
It’s a map written backwards,
a compass with no North,
a story that still walks
even after you stop listening.

If it makes you flinch,
good.
If it makes you shift in your seat,
better.
Because comfort never
changed a thing.

I came
from another direction.
Whole, unapologetic, and enough.