The dilemma of finally finding her voice
Was that it was not enough
Simply to speak
This voice
Which had lain dormant
Inside of her for so long
Lost under unrelenting responsibilities
An overdeveloped superego
The weight of roles such as “wife”
As “mother”
As “worker bee”
Rarely “woman”
Rarely even “human being”
Had become voracious
What she thought was merely a trickle of words
Activated by the injustices of the world
And the ache it awoke in her heart
Had grown rapidly into the flow of a kitchen tap
When given some room
It then grew into the steady stream of water
From a garden hose
It then threatened to explode
Like water from a fire hydrant
Or perhaps with the ferocity
Of a river long damned
Obliterating all real and imagined obstacles
In its path
She had not known
Had not realized
That all of this lay inside her
Coiled with tension
Waiting for that small crack
That would allow
Those first tentative words to seep out
She had exposed those first words
To air
To light
Cautiously
Fearfully
Not knowing if anyone would see them
Would read them
Would connect to them
Would understand
It was thrilling and scary
When she realized that her words
Had an audience outside
Of her own inner ear
But then that audience
Although bigger than any other
She had ever had
Was not enough
The time she put aside for the words
Was not enough
Her voice
So long suppressed
Demanded more and more
It whispered to her
In the middle of the night
It spoke to her on her morning commute
It sang to her in the shower
Causing her to be late
Because she had to write these words down
Before they slipped down the drain, lost forever
The words started to call out when she at work
When she should have been doing other things
Begging for acknowledgement
She did not know what to do
With all these words
Which were now
Shouting
Cajoling
Colliding into each other
Racing through her brain
Spilling onto the screen
Written in ink on the margins of paper
On her very skin
Always demanding more
Saying over and over again
A mantra that cut through the din:
“We are your truth
Your truth can no longer be contained
Your voice must be heard.”
Yes yes yes
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So glad this resonated Yassy!
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I echo Yassy. Perfectly and truthfully expressed.
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Thank you Phoebe! I am sure that the experience of words taking on a life of their own is not unique. When your voice needs to be heard it is POWERFUL!
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This voice
Which had lain dormant
Inside of her for so long
Yesss! This line caught me
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I’m so glad it resonated!
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Thank God that the words came. As an aside, I either try to start a text, use the voice recorder, and copy things what pops up at inopportune times. I have also learned that sometimes I have to ignore them. Idk how many poems I’ve lost over the years because there wasn’t time for them. I don’t do that anymore 😀
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Thank you OldePunk! I kept writing the same first line of a poem (“I am a run-on sentence”) in notebooks all over the house so I wouldn’t forget it and Kevin told me that after a while he started thinking that he should just write the damn poem because the sentence was starting to haunt him. The creative process is certainly capricious.
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lol!
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I am sure that he is still wondering what the hell happened to the life– and the wife– he had before October. “Start a blog, she said. How disruptive can a blog be?”
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Reblogged this on Sudden Denouement Literary Collective.
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😄 the more I read the more my reflection shines – you are a brilliant writer! 😏
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Thank you! I don’t know that I deserve such praise but I appreciate you support and compassion always.
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I only write what my heart reflects – so, my praises come with honest merit 😄😄
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Then I will merely say thank you dear lady.
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💞💕
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I’m truly in love with your feminist poetry. Thanks for holding our flag high. Hugs.
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Thank you dear! So glad you liked it.
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