Find your voice,
They say.
I have found my voice.
They say pretend,
Misunderstanding,
Paper cuts on my soul.
They sting, they bleed.
This is not fine.
My voice to you is
Described as a whisper of a ghost.
However, to me
It is like thunder in my mind .
When told to speak out loud by you,
There are words that
I must take from the deepest part of me,
With every syllable
Struggling against my throat
And clawing to be let out.
On the other hand,
What you hear seems dry.
But for me, it feels
Like fresh wounds.
But if I have to
Call out to someone
In the next room,
I find myself falling into myself,
And my voice coming out
As though it emerged from the dawn of time.
It leaves me panting, empty,
Sometimes it sounds
Like I’m yelling
A cry in your ears;
While for me this is an earthquake
That breaks my soul.
The effort leaves me gasping, drained.
Peace is a soft shawl
Within silence.
At last,
My mind breathes.
In stillness,
And in mute moments,
I am complete.
Silent Thunder: The Hidden Intensity of a Voice
This piece really gets at something we often overlook – how our inner experience can be so different from what others see. It’s like we’re all walking around with these rich inner worlds that others can barely glimpse.
Think about that contrast between the “whisper of a ghost” others hear and the “thunder in my mind.” It’s like what the psychologist Lev Vygotsky called the “inner speech.” Our thoughts are so much more than just silent words – they’re a roar of emotions, memories, and ideas.
And that struggle to speak out loud? It’s not just shyness or nervousness. It’s like what the philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty talked about – how our bodies are our way of being in the world. For some of us, speaking is like trying to translate a whole universe into a few sounds.
Now, that bit about words feeling like fresh wounds? That’s hitting on something deep. It’s like what the poet Rainer Maria Rilke meant when he wrote about how “every angel is terrifying.” Sometimes, our truths are so powerful, so raw, that expressing them feels like opening ourselves up to the core.
The idea of falling into yourself when you have to call out – that’s not just a poetic image. It’s like what psychologists call “depersonalization.” It’s this experience where you feel disconnected from yourself, like you’re watching yourself from the outside.
And peace being a soft shawl within silence? That’s beautiful, and it’s got some real psychological backing. Researchers have found that periods of silence can actually grow new brain cells in the areas linked to memory and sense of self.
So what does this all mean for us? Well, maybe it’s about recognizing that everyone’s inner experience is unique and valid. Your “whisper” might be someone else’s shout, and that’s okay.
Remember, finding your voice isn’t always about speaking louder. Sometimes it’s about finding the spaces where you can be truly heard, truly understood. As the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein said, “The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” But your world is so much more than what others can hear.
Embrace those quiet moments where you feel complete. They’re not a failure to communicate – they’re a different kind of expression. Your voice, in all its forms – the thunder in your mind, the whisper others hear, the silence that completes you – it’s all part of who you are. And that? That’s something worth celebrating.