A Poem

My voice.

Where has she been?

Shy and subdued for oh, so long…

appearing in journals and paragraph posts

and snippets of conversations.

But she pesters and whispers and

Has finally

Become

Insistent.

 

The first poem I ever memorized was written by Shel Silverstein. It hangs in my classroom, still, for it has never lost its grip on me.

 

“There is a voice inside of you

That whispers all day long.

I feel that this is right for me

I know that this is wrong.

 

No teacher, preacher, parent, friend,

Or wise man can decide

What’s right for you

Just listen to

The voice that speaks inside.”

 

And even so, I sometimes find myself struggling to hear my own voice. I struggle to quiet the noise, both literally and figuratively. When I do; when I finally hear her, she sings. She laughs and she whispers and she moans and she speaks to me in a melody that reminds me of all that I am meant to be.

 

She calls me to write. Blessed be.