My Words

Location

My voice is not loud

It’s the quiet whisper in the crowd

It’s the breeze through your ear

It’s the rustling of a deer.

 

My voice is not a mountain,

Or an imposing fountain,

It’s not a landmark to be seen,

Or a high school Prom Queen.

 

My voice is like a mouse

Small and quiet, never loud.

What if I open my mouth,

What do you think will come out?

 

Will it be a revelation?

Or a sentence already stated?

Will it shake you to your core?

Leave you aching for more?

 

No. Because my voice is not a mountain,

You’ve got to read the captions.

It’s not a landmark to be seen,

It’s a whisper, not a scream.

 

But my words. My words are like Big Ben,

A clock that’s never to be missed.

My words are an ocean of thought,

Nit-picked from my mind, not to be bought

 

My words are deep as the Grand Canon

Desolate like a desert, the Saharan

Waves crashing through the Bermuda Triangle

Mysterious as the evasive Bald Eagle

 

Larger than the Amazon

Taller than the Pyramids

More lost than Atlantis

As destructive as Pompeii

 

So my voice isn’t a mountain.

So what if it’s a damn fountain?

My words are what matter to me,

They are what allow me to be seen

 

My words are who I am.

Not my voice. Oh, no, ma’am.

My voice is like a mouse

My words are like a house.

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