If I was left on an island

gone and forgotten

what would I bring 

if I had the option?

I'd bring my voice 

the only tool I need.

While I rot away,

it would keep me company. 

If I could call for help

I'd call on God. 

I'd say, "Can you help me?"

The prayer of an outlaw.

If I'd brought my voice I'd sing all the songs,

that made me happy.

My mother's voice would harmonize

in my melodocious tragedy.

Without my voice I'd be alone with my thoughts,

a dangerous place to be,

I'd give a voice to the sun, the waves, the grains of sand,

as they'd become a part of me.