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.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.