A Celebration of Voice: a poem for Selective Mutism

First, thank you to everyone who attended our event on Thursday. We were able to "Celebrate Voice" with a great crowd, who saw people of all ages and experience perform poetry, comedy, and music. Ballydoyle Pub in Aurora provided us with more than we could ask for, and it was a perfect start to our ongoing fight against Selective Mutism.

Now that the madness has (temporarily) settled, I aim to be on here a bit more. Expect a continuation of the previously started Voice Project, among other projects that will surface once the fall semester begins.

Until now, here is the poem I read at our event. Feel free to help us provide funding for kids coping with this disorder at our website: www.buildingbridgesgroup.com

Love you for reading

JN

A Celebration of Voice

 

I cried a lot as a baby,
Ear puckering tears from a crib
Around 2 am that forced dad to mumble
“your turn” into his pillow,
Prompting, undoubtedly, a sigh from mom’s tired face
And a stare so cold I’m sure he felt it on his neck,
 
Much like I do every day
When I leave the confines of my home
 gazes, from just as tired faces
Stretch like arms
with weary fingers around my neck, begging,
“Why won’t you talk, whisper,
Even cry?”
 
But the grip is too tight. I can’t speak.
 
I only cry inside now.
Sometimes it leaks onto paper in ink,
But those tears stay hidden beneath covers
Away from eyes that loom
outside the silence of my room.
 
Hidden, too, are my dreams,
The schemes of which I wrote with ambition
In a playbook
Which I keep in a dark and dusty pocket
Against my chest, close to a locket
That holds pictures of the person I wish to be,
But can’t
 
because life is a drag race,
And fear holds tight to my torso
Like the harness of a parachute.
 
It slows me down.
I reach
 
But its grip is too tight, I can’t breathe,
 
So I watch the others speed free
And it’s like nobody sees,
And those who do skip their careless words at my feet
Like rocks into water until I trip and fall in.
Head overcome with a wash of questions
“Why don’t you want to speak?”
“Why won’t you talk? Even Cry?”
 
Now I’m drowning.
 
But in the distance
a light shines, Showing me safety’s existence
And guiding me there.
 
I am buoyed by hope.
And I can float and pray for rescue
But I’ve been doing that too long,
 
So I’m going to catch a wave
And ride it,
gather strength in my legs
And lungs so when I’m close enough,
I can wade Home
to who I am,
 
Burst into my mother’s room
And hear her cry
tears of joy,
see her celebrate
when she hears me proclaim
that I didn’t lose my voice,
I simply misplaced it,
And in the process I learned
 
Bravery isn’t always being the loudest,
Bravery is having the courage to search the dark
For your voice until you’ve found it.
 
I never wanted to be afraid,
I can’t help what I couldn’t say
But now,
My voice is found
and from this day forward
I will choose
 
To use my brave
 
And speak.