My Voice Returns

For a long time my voice lived in my throat

like a bird behind glass

moving, alive,

but quiet on purpose.

﹁﹂

I became fluent in nodding.

In “whatever you want.”

In laughing at things

That made my stomach sink.

﹁﹂

Even my opinions got shy,

hiding behind polite phrases,

softening themselves

until they were almost nothing.

﹁﹂

Then one day my friend asked,

“What do you want?”

and I opened my mouth

and… nothing came out.

Just air and embarrassment.

﹁﹂

I went home angry,

not at her

at the years I spent

being easy to handle.

﹁﹂

So I started practicing alone:

reading poems out loud,

singing badly in the shower,

saying my own name

like it was important.

﹁﹂

The first “no” I spoke

came out crooked,

a little too loud,

then too soft

But it landed.

﹁﹂

Now my voice returns in pieces:

a question I don’t swallow,

a truth I don’t decorate,

a laugh that doesn’t ask permission.

﹁﹂

I’m still learning the sound of me,

But I like it.

I really do.