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To speak

A poem on voice, trauma and recovery

By Mikaela PiaseckiPublished 5 years ago 1 min read

Silence means

Your mouth became a graveyard

Your voice, a hollow wind stirring the ashes of worthiness

Your hopes were unsheltered leaves

Wild, fragile things holding still

Afraid to disturb the quiet with their breath

To speak is to grow a garden

To make the soil of your mouth fertile again

To witness scattered leaves leaking their fragrance into your lungs

Watching the ivy poised so ladylike against the gates

You have grown a beautiful shield

A bed of thorny roses keeping watch by the fence

You bloom with more colors than my lips have words for

I watch you flourish

And lovely girl

I am so proud

inspirational

About the Creator

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