I want you to teach me
how to speak strong
the way your mother probably did
when trying to shuffle you into bed,
a presence not occupied by decibels in space,
this is about power not volume
because my words come from
a place of quiet terror
for fear of not doing my
verbs justice.
I have not come from a land
of quiet-talkers.
sound-pollution: a piece of my
genetic fabric and coding
I am working very hard at being quiet
and I do not want that stillness to be
mistaken as accident,
as self-doubt,
as stage-fright.
But, as reflective,
peaceful,
like the sound your front door makes
when you unlock it and immediately feel
at home,
because it is not those walls that
bring comfort,
it is the simple sounds the house bones make,
the silences they hold.
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