Either head or heart, You set them both afire.
Not everyone will get struck, glow.
Not everyone will feel the bliss; stopping as they do, at the burn. The voice that’s meant to speak rises.
Slowly over time first one hears yet is not sure what’s heard. Then another turns their good ear to the sky.
I’ve been quiet for so long
silent while my tongue gave off a tumult of words.
My insides scream out with this rich vocabulary of little meaning.
Yet, finally, the silent simplicity that tumbles and rolls is all that is left.
I, finally, get to speak with a voice translated across generations.
Over my shoulder I can see who I am.