Voice of Resilience

In most cases, if one were to admit they hear a voice often,

you might feel the need to skirt around them with caution.

I admit, I would do the same if you were to admit to me something so insane.

Contrary to what I’ve just now stated as my belief, the voice in my ear brings relief.

I find comfort in the voice I am constantly hearing, but the words spoken are not terribly endearing.

For the voice is my grandmother’s and it rings in my mind with upmost sharpness.

Her words, for lack of better term, hold no kindness.

And yet, they save me.

I hear her when I’m on the verge of drowning in my own tears,

her voice pulls me from my place of wallowing and sets me above my fears.

It reminds me starkly that there is still much I can do with my years.

When I skulk, gripe and think life is so terribly traumatic.

She is there shouting over the static, “Quit being so dramatic!”

Now some might think, I need a shrink.

And they might be right,

but I often stop to ponder and think, of all I might have missed out on without this one important link.

Like a slap of cold water to the face, her words remind me boldly to stand up and take my place.

Like a laser through a dark night, her voice sharply zings above my plight, “get up and fight, you are going to be alright.”