The still soft voice

The sound that is in my conscious is different than the one in my heart.

It’s that still small voice that confirms and assures, even when you’re unsure.

That voice that is different from the voice coming from the other side.

The voice on the other side is impatient and loud; it’s anxious and proud.

But not this one

- the one that sees me.

This is the one we often ignore, because our flesh feels better with the other voice,

but we know it’s not the safest choice.

It’s as subtle, and as peaceful as the sun gleaming after a rainy day,

or the background white-noise of rain, on a melancholy day.

Or the confidence of trust, that everything’s gonna be okay.

As smooth as the geese that rest and glide upon the shallow marsh,

leading the others by a gorgeous ripple.

The right from the wrong.

The yes or no.

To go or to stop.

Even when you try to ignore it, it’s gentle enough to not.

The move or the wait.

The when to speak, or to stay quiet.

It’s still, but never silent.

This voice knows my name.

And I know it’s within me; fighting on behalf of every battle,

on behalf of every pain.