I love soothing, silent voices. I love
a voice that has a smile in it, a little
laughter, which you can almost feel
as sublime words escape its lips.
I love voices that echo themselves
clear, after mumbling away their life
through their rolling tongues – voices
that have learnt confidence through trial
and error, and re-trial and re-error, until
words are child’s play and poetry rings
through the bubbling hollow cavity, that is
the human body – shaking the unbroken
universe, cascading through the galaxies.
Who knows what voices are made of, who
knows if they are reliable, or if the sounds
are sound themselves – maybe, the child
by whom the syllable was softly uttered,
stutters before mouthing the alphabet K,
muttering under his breath, fighting to fit in.
maybe the one to whom the voice belongs to
fits their universe in the nimble hands of their
child, of their mother, of their lover? point is,
it.
doesn’t.
matter.
as long as you could bundle up such voices
into the sneaky crevices of your heartstrings,
in an order of rising pitch or bass or loudness,
whatever you prefer, and lull yourself to sweet
dreams as they softly ease and constrict the
tensions within them and gently play through the
darkness over your heart, and your head.
~
Day #12 of NaPoWriMo.
Rewrote an old piece.
so far, so adulthood 