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.