“There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

–Anais Nin

Prompt: When I am free, my voice…

Is strong and powerful. My voice is mine! I am quirky and queer and everything in between. My voice is both self possessed and a channel for my ancestors. I bring life to my children and those after me. My voice is my word. My words are meaningful, powerful. When I use my voice, you better watch out! I fear none. I fear none. I fear none. My voice is a trumpeting song. My voice is mine. I love my voice. I love my voice. I love my voice. Can you hear me? Do you feel me? My voice sings. My voice raps. My voice delivers powerful spoken word, guttural moans, is the vehicle of my expression. When I am free, my voice is me. When I am free, I experience me. When I am free, my voice is me.

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As a child, I spoke as a child…I was uninhibited and free. I do not know what I said, just that I thought to say the,. People were amazed. She speaks! She reads! She has a brain! Well of course, what else would you think?

Then, slowly, I began to see myself through the eyes of others. I was no longer innocent. I had become aware, to some extent, of others’ assumptions and notions of who I was supposed to be. Why I was unacceptable. Why I shouldn’t be. I fought as best I could…

Later, I put away childish things, taking on the voice of a lost one – the child I lost and neglected. She retreated, but once I managed to fight the demons, once more my inner child could re-emerge, from time to time, to say thank you. For not forgetting about her. For trying anyway. For believing in a better day, even when she couldn’t. For laughing. For caring. For being.