The human anatomy is more than just
What the eyes can see
Or technology can clinically measure.
The human anatomy branches far past our cerebrum
And into the essence of who we are.
And archetypal tools of communication,
Skinny pens and delicate brushes
That weep on blank canvases of paper,
Have always been conduits
For the human soul.
Messages and morals
and lessons and voices
Are inumerable in our world
And all crisscross together
before they fade as jumbled consonants
And sounds that most ignore
Because they are not their own.
I use my conduits
Because sometimes simply raising my voice is not enough.
And the voice that you must uplift
Isn't one that people will care to listen to,
So you must fight a battle of opinion
Or lament a wealth of emotions
In a way that will penetrate their defenses
And delicately open their eyes
So that they will curl their fists accordingly.
They curl their fists to stand with you
And raise their sleeping voices too
Or they clench them to stand against you.
With the written language,
You can start or end an era
In the flick of an eye
And influence the minds,
But through all the swirls and flowery-tongued designs
Of my overused ink pen as its lips
Kiss the paper and leave behind my
One fact forever remains the same.
Because, the truth is,
That when I raise my voice to be heard
The person that I hope heeds it the most