I miss my voice.
I miss speaking clearly with precision.
With words attempting to paint a vision.
Consistent monotonous syllables pouring
from a mouth connected to a brain that
functioned at a quick pace and found
each word a place.
A learned habit.
Diligently sought.
Quickly forgot.
But I celebrate.
Words will flow freely,
my brain will think purely,
words will be sublime.
With ease I will speak,
with the display of tender
and meek,
reflecting the God I seek,
proof that Christ makes
the strong from the weak.
No worries.
No fears.
Knowing love.
Crying joyful tears.