Tue, 07/05/2016 - 20:42 -- jimurr

This is the story of how I lost my voice - 

But more importantly, how I found it again.

How I found the words caught behind spiderwebs in my throat, itching to be free,

How I found that once I stopped asking for donations, I learned to contribute

My own two cents.

How sometimes...

Sometimes you need to be silent to realize that your voice is a symphony.

My voice is a symphony.

My voice is justice.

It is hands over the ears of the oppressed as I sharpen my tongue to slice the oppressors.

It is courage in the face of perceived inferiority,  squashing the insecurities until they are just a nightmare.

It is a rocket ship propelling my ideas to the forefront of my mouth because...

Because they matter.

I matter.

Poetry is my favorite dress.

My voice is the feature I want to show off.


©Jillian Murray, 2016

This poem is about: 


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