I used to have a voice of my own
It used to sing often, but song was not its only channel
It laughed, cried, urged, cajoled, conversed, loved, cared, preached, bossed, and obeyed.
But my voice got lost in the shadows of my keep
I don't know how, but I think I know why
I could tell I was losing my voice,
could feel it bleed away
No longer acting with edge, it first became dull
then quieter, then simply gone
Along the way, I would ask to talk just to keep my voice alive
I would beg to listen, just so my voice could find a partner to stay with
I got no voice in return, so soon mine stopped trying too
As it got quieter, I would sit in my car and scream at the steering wheel.
Surely, the steering wheel had to listen. Alas not.
But it didn't matter, because the sound of my own scream proved to me
that my voice was not gone yet, still alive inside of me
Just the act of screaming was a release for my voice
Each day, my voice got ever quieter
One day I screamed in the car, and I heard nothing. Gone.
After all these years, my voice came back at me.
Not from my mouth, an echo from another.
Across a chasm I can not reach nor see.
Still I hear a voice. Not my voice. But my voice.
I hear my voice.
It started not as a whisper, but a scream.
My voice was screaming at me.
I could not hear what it said, but I know it was my voice
I still hear it, but it still can't tell me what I need to know
So much unsure, uncertain.
Will my voice stay with me this time?
Will the echos grow closer, and will I cross that chasm?
I do not scream in my car now, because I don't need that to proved to me
that my voice is not gone yet, still alive inside of me
I have other ways now. Healthier ways. Richer ways
My voice is coming back. The echos are still here too.
I need all of it, and it needs me
Again I have a voice of my own, and I have my echo to thank.
Someday, there will be no chasm, and the echo will know too.
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
I used to have a voice of my own
It used to sing often, but song was not its only channel
It laughed, cried, urged, cajoled, conversed, loved, cared, preached, bossed, and obeyed.
But my voice got lost in the shadows of my keep
I don't know how, but I think I know why
I could tell I was losing my voice,
could feel it bleed away
No longer acting with edge, it first became dull
then quieter, then simply gone
Along the way, I would ask to talk just to keep my voice alive
I would beg to listen, just so my voice could find a partner to stay with
I got no voice in return, so soon mine stopped trying too
As it got quieter, I would sit in my car and scream at the steering wheel.
Surely, the steering wheel had to listen. Alas not.
But it didn't matter, because the sound of my own scream proved to me
that my voice was not gone yet, still alive inside of me
Just the act of screaming was a release for my voice
Each day, my voice got ever quieter
One day I screamed in the car, and I heard nothing. Gone.
After all these years, my voice came back at me.
Not from my mouth, an echo from another.
Across a chasm I can not reach nor see.
Still I hear a voice. Not my voice. But my voice.
I hear my voice.
It started not as a whisper, but a scream.
My voice was screaming at me.
I could not hear what it said, but I know it was my voice
I still hear it, but it still can't tell me what I need to know
So much unsure, uncertain.
Will my voice stay with me this time?
Will the echos grow closer, and will I cross that chasm?
I do not scream in my car now, because I don't need that to proved to me
that my voice is not gone yet, still alive inside of me
I have other ways now. Healthier ways. Richer ways
My voice is coming back. The echos are still here too.
I need all of it, and it needs me
Again I have a voice of my own, and I have my echo to thank.
Someday, there will be no chasm, and the echo will know too.