Is to observe the world
in all its intricate detail
To hear all the
unspoken words
To be a watcher at every moment
but never to be watched

From all the dark corners
where the whispers reach
is a fly, soundless, immobile
seeing all
yet seen by none

If you can’t hold on others secrets with you, better stop listening to them.

she is
glorious --
in that golden-hour
type of way.
it looks like
she was dipped
in the kind of light
that you can't touch,
but admire.

i listen intently
as she talks about
boys
like she's reading it
from a script
that fits her mouth
almost too
easily.

and i sit there,
i smile and nod,
trying not to look
at her lips
when she stops
paying attention to
my eyes.

she says im her favourite,
her safest place,
her soul sister even --
and i say..
"me too."
yet it still aches
like a confession
i can't give
to her.
to anyone, really.

she's glorious.
and i love her
in the quietest form --
the one that
lets her go
every day
without thinking about
telling her
i ever wanted to
stay.

There’s a difference between hearing and listening
For 19 years, I heard my voice
As sweet as honey
As smooth as a baby's skin
With an alto voice range
It rang in my head through the day and night
By plenty conversations I had with peers and family alike
See, I sounded sophisticated
Like a classy woman who knows her value
I sounded professional with big words I learned
From many novels I fancied
But I didn't listen to my voice
I heard the authority
I know what I said and I heard what I spoke
One day I decided to listen to my voice
I wrote a poem to a 14 year old
Telling baby girl to not be so shy
Telling baby girl to not be afraid to be herself
Telling baby girl that she's a precious diamond who didn't burst
Under the pressure that surrounded her
And I listened
And understood why some say women like me are too loud
They know our voices will cause shifts
And make some changes
I ignored them and wrote more
I performed at open mics
I listened to the raw talent and the voice I ignored
My attention was caught by the voice I was blessed with
Just like loud thunder and lightning
It boomed and caused many to listen to me
My voice needs to be heard and will continue to be heard
For as long as I can
My voice will sustain me
After all, my voice doesn't lie to me
-Mia J
11/9/2018
© 2018 Mia J

When my tears dry
And my sobs cease
Do not mistake it for me calming down.
I've simply realised that you cannot hear my screams
And will say everything but the words I need to hear

When my tears stop
And my sobs fall silent
Do not think I'm doing better.
It just means I've changed the locks
And will continue to break where your gaze won't wander

When my tears shatter
And my sobs lose breath
You will hear everything in that silence
For the ending will be laid out before you
In a casket that will echo my story

Did you even hear me?
   I heard every single me, humbled?

By Listening We hear,
but often forget—
The fragility of half murmured ideas
signal lost in a tide of noise.

Talking overshadows listening,
Loud, brash, and always there.
listening creates by transforming.
A friend listens,
and a conversation
Turns to something extraordinary.

We roar, we scream, we sing,
But listening eludes description—
its shape unclear until all words are heard

What if we thought
of ourselves as listeners?
compliant, unresisting
designed to receive the world?
Would it change us?

Would our own language then expand
to hold the weight of both
silence and sound?
cosmos made clearer
by this unseen gift.

Imagine yourself a receiver of grace,
Open to everything,
even the dark matter of thought.

I tire this new morning,
I slept not a wink tonight.

For there is a lonely woman,
Who sings out in woesome plight.

Her voice creeps to my window,
And haunts my slumb'ring ear,
And I am shot awake in fear.

Listening for the lonesome cry,
Of the Lady of the Night.