Poetry Speaks Where Voices Cannot

 

Where our voice cannot reach

Poetry is the bridgework

We write what we cannot say out loud

And our voices are deafening

 

There on the paper

Lay a single question

Yet the question made me falter

“What word would you say defines you?”

What word?

Am I to be summed up in a single word?

 

To my peers

They say innocent

Too soft, too trusting

That I find it too easy to see the good in people

Giving them redemption when anyone would have given up

In this they says I am weak

That I put others in front of myself

Why should I bear the burdens of others?

 

To my relatives

They say distant

Often finding me with a thousand voices to speak

Yet not daring to utter one syllable

They are not the only one I have distanced myself from

There is a bitter solace in silence

 

To them I am small

Insignificant, worthless

I am the dust in the wind

So easily shifted by a breeze

I am made of glass

A single touch

Will shatter me

 

But I have learned

To define myself

I am not contained in a single word

Not even a library can hold me

I am so much more than they know

Their definitions do not bind me

I do see the good in people

And offer what I can to help

 

This is not weakness

To have a heart for others

No, you will find that this has strengthened me

I have known pain

I have carried it

And I have survived

You will not find me so easily broken

 

Yes I dwell in silence

But only to those who don’t know how to listen

So tread lightly

And open your eyes

Don’t be afraid of the flames

For I was forged in the inferno, built from fire

 

So my acquaintances, I am stronger than you know

I will not be contained in the boundaries you set for me

Nor by the names you give me

I am so much more

So family, learn to hear my voice

It is there, yearning to be heard

If you choose to take the step

You will hear me

My voice is not as frail as you imagine

I am not who you dreamed me to be

 

I am not the dust

I am the gale itself

And I can not be defined by anyone else

I have written my own story

Wielding my pen as a sword

I have forged my own path

I am my own and I am more than enough.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Me

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