I wouldn’t exactly call it trigger-happy.
(See, I know just how often I misfire.)
Some days I forget what I sound like entirely.
When I start to speak,
my voice shakes like an old washing machine.
Last winter I swore there were cobwebs growing on my vocal chords.
When I introduced myself to you,
my spiders lost their home
& They were terrified.
(But I bet they were not
half as scared as I was.)
Sometimes I am full of silence, still.
Quiet, the way God has been to me,
(when everyone else swears they hear him.)
Other times I cannot shut up.
I spout off stanzas as if I had the feeling that someone was about to rob me
of my ability to make sound.
Words pour out the way fifth graders do
from class at 3:30 every Monday through Friday.
(If my gushing only happened five days a week, though,
that would be better-
yes, that would be good.)
I bark blundering babble 365 days of the year
(actually a little more than that
because a year is actually a little more than that
which is why we have leap years but anyways,)
i’m glad i finally realized my voice shoots at all
glad i finally stepped into it,
ascended twenty-five flights of marble stairs
one for each year
i have circled the sun.
the first few were somewhat stagnant-
they say slow and steady
i was slow.
i was not steady.
i lost my confidence before i built it.
thought i never had it,
i found it hiding
in the pantry amongst the honey-stuck slabs of oak
and the coffee grounds.
i forgot it existed,
never knew it existed
’til it showed me it existed-
’til i showed me i existed.
i urged it out,
i said ‘come here,
i need you’
it was slow at first
so slow at first you wouldn’t even realize it was happening
at first
it was kind of like the world spinning
you didn’t even think about it how it made the seasons change and then it was spring one day when you opened the window.
yeah it was spring one day when i opened my mouth.
All I want to do is communicate like a thunderstorm.
Nature’s got it just right.
‘Cause miles above everything I know,
a love story prologue is being penned perfectly.
A cloud collects courage-
Growing more confident with each accumulated piece of moisture
until finally,
and with great intensity,
the sky opens up & each drop of precipitation falls with a purpose-
to relay a long-awaited message to the ground below.
I wish my words came to me when I called for them,
I just wish I were little more cohesive.
I wish my self doubt went on vacation.
Wish I were that cloud, ever so patient,
Ever so sure that when I relayed my message to you,
it would be purposeful
and not shaky
and definitely not a misfire.
I’ve been a proud wordsmith
for quite a large chunk of time now
and I’m happy to say I’m finally making the leap
into being
just
proud.
& 