In the quiet and silence I had a voice and used it
But nobody listened.
it was 2015.
Never mind the warnings or revelations.
Then I got ‘friends’, an ‘audience’ and I found ‘God’
my voice disappeared
it was 2016.
five years later
in the quiet of depression
in the depths of an abyss
I found my writing style
I cultivated my literary voice
in my poetry
my vocals: i sang more
but I lost my voice as a human being
i could not speak up
i await her return
i am here
to hear
you.
baby girl come back
don’t cry
wandering why
I was not comfortable
being seen being heard
because being ignored: was normalcy
a natural state
so the inner silence
became a defiant act
a way to preserve the
air of disregard
that others cruelly inflicted on me for too long
then all eyes on me
and i’m in the centre of a circus
heart bypass
throat chokehold
one hand mine – the other hand yours
i can’t breathe, i can’t breathe
dying breath
and still i can’t speak
not like I used to
not like back then
when you all ignored me
and I had a voice
now you don’t ignore me
and I have to fight for my voice
and my right to exist
and i succumb to the silence
a form of self reliance
contrivance
one. day. a. whisper.
then a tone
much like mine
from way back in time
when I had a voice
and spoke up, had a choice
rejoice
it has returned
my one and only voice
that will never be silenced
for that in itself is an act of violence
on a soul of purity
no longer hidden in obscurity.
growing into maturity
once a girl
now a woman
not so sullen
undone
drop the gun
because baby girl has won
and run
to a sunset of serenity
out of this locality
intensity revived
voracity incorporated
her voice back
never to leave.
