Louder

How does a whisper

- a slight, beaten whisper -

move any minds

if it can't move itself?

There's mountains upon you,

the weight of tradition.

It wants of your blood,

and asks to be held.

How does a voice

of one person, alone,

find red-raw courage

to finally be itself?

"Nothing's so easy,

this takes a sacrifice",

a part of yourself says,

and drips sweet condescension.

How does a shout

cut through that living static,

complacent and turgid,

of those who don't care?

By opening your chest,

ribs flowering like lilies,

the pollen of your heart

draws others like insects.

How does a chorus

of voices together

show the unforgiving

that they are now fading?

Waking, you realize,

your fresh, lonely mind

had lived in a nightmare

quieting into reality.

You now hear the symphony,

that loud, grand, proud miracle.

It plays out so seamlessly,

sounding like one voice.

It sounds like "together"

and "love" and "acceptance",

real words that speak out

for motion, for all.