Students went around the room,
saying a word about the first
class. And hers was nervous. Her offerings are so visible to me
My word was open. But my window
may have looked closed. You see,
nervous and I are old friends, mostly estranged
To trace the path between
the girl who didn’t speak in
class and the woman I am is a fiery planet
Some days, the silence
descends again, the fear
laps at my feet, I’m muted, burning inside
Other times, my voice
is so clear, you can swallow
it in deep gulps from a mountain stream
I am more than what I
say or leave unsaid, but
some sounds spark wild fire.
