A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
Tears burned his eyes when he realized in earnest he had learned, despite the repression, how to use his voice, when he finally could memorize lyrics to his favorite song, part his lips to loose a song upon a stunned family gathering. Silent, carefully listening, he had them, knew it, and like a cork it bottled him lifelong, unable to sing again before anyone. Tens of years pass, earning his stripes, multiple, menial jobs that buy his bread, he tires of being alone. Quiet, he vocalizes feelings again. Sung with headphones strapped, silences a crowd all around. He parts those still tender lips, having relearned the lyrics, sings his favorite song, stunned. Only this time, he doesn't look, imagines the sweetest melody plays through his soul to mountain tops his remaining years, wherever he goes and gently whispers thank you to his brave heart. 7.11.21 How I imagine it might feel one day when ready to share love of singing to a broader audience. It takes a lot of courage to be a part of a social community where one is only willing to share so much of them self, fearing reception, fearing rejection. Moreover, tied to self worth, it stings when people don't get him, or want get him, because he doesn't bring to the table what they think he should. Though, he does lay bare his soul of it's gifts. And when that's deemed only partially good, it might as well be all bad. He's honest. Maybe, that scares you. He knows the difference between people who speak real words or use them as a mask. But using real words as a mask will take much longer to discern. |