Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Day 3: Breaking the fast

We take this silence to be self evident
That the body will speak for itself when it must
In the moments between
We will pretend there is no trauma choking voice down
It is choice
An echoed reverb

I have allowed this vocal chord of mine to simmer
For more than a year
Soak itself in the acid tingling at the back of my throat
Until speech was a forgotten protest
An action requiring more passion than I possess

There is a breaking required in the ending of silence
It is the crackle found in the abandoned chords
It is a sting I know too well
The fear of it
Will help keep the quiet
Keep the calm
Scare my body back into its curl
Have me refusing the pen

Terrified of what pain
This uncovering might bring

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