May 10 2012
∞
“ I had been searching for my voice,
checking each inch of my body
for its hidden noise. I pulled out
each of my eyes in turn and checked
their dull colours for a sight of it,
but it was not there. I turned my heart
inside out like a purse, but there was
no trace, no single note playing
as a clue. I searched each crystal breath
as it emerged, my eyes spinning
like sugar in my head. I could not find
my lost voice and I despaired.
It was as I sat, desolate, by your side
and listened to your sexist jokes
that I found it, foetal and quavering,
hiding on the end of my tongue.
I swallowed it whole in shock and felt it
grow within my throat, hammering
on the cage my teeth made, and
when I opened my mouth it roared.
checking each inch of my body
for its hidden noise. I pulled out
each of my eyes in turn and checked
their dull colours for a sight of it,
but it was not there. I turned my heart
inside out like a purse, but there was
no trace, no single note playing
as a clue. I searched each crystal breath
as it emerged, my eyes spinning
like sugar in my head. I could not find
my lost voice and I despaired.
It was as I sat, desolate, by your side
and listened to your sexist jokes
that I found it, foetal and quavering,
hiding on the end of my tongue.
I swallowed it whole in shock and felt it
grow within my throat, hammering
on the cage my teeth made, and
when I opened my mouth it roared.
— Felicity Ann Alma: Search for my voice
(Source: poetrysociety.org.uk)
