Bare words

When words get choked,

and my speech falters, seized by a stammer,

I remember how my thundering voice always,

always, echoed faintly just above me, pinned to the walls.

And I can’t help but shrink from the thought.

_____

Words are not plain to me;

they’re layered, alive with meaning,

yet I struggle to reveal them whole.

Unfolding layer by layer, I snip away

the familiar efforts that yielded nothing—

unraveling the language of a little girl whose common words bore no fruit.

_____

And now, as I struggle to find my voice,

the pain is still there, a weight others seem to bear lightly.

But for me, it’s ever sharp.

_____

For if my words don’t carry mystery, don’t burst with imagery,

if they don’t ease my mind or sink deep,

then why should i speak?

_____

I feel so much, yet often find no words,

For i’ve long been thrown in chains, forced into the silence.

So if my words are not crafted in poetry,

Hidden in its intricate deep mysteries I get to tune as i please

I fear I don’t know how to speak.

For this is the only way I’ve ever truly expressed.

______

Finding solace in these pages where words becomes art—

a relief from the bare words i hear.

______

So come to me with the light talk that sometimes bores me;

I’ll say a few things, maybe, depending on my mood.

_____

But how I truly feel—

I can’t always capture it in essays or statements even,

only here, on these pages where words bleed into art

and my heart finds a moment’s rest.

_____

Bring me shallow talk if you must,

but don’t expect the depths of my truth,

and don’t look for what you won’t reach.

_____

Yet still, I hope,

someone, someday, will see past the mask,

to what I unveil only to those with open eyes.

_____

Writer’s notes:

My meaning of “bare”—

Full of……….so full of empty