My Voice

My Voice

A distinctive foghorn, cutting

through background noise, 

my own private public address

system, a sonic blast produced

by an oversized head, a megaphone

made of flesh, bone, and cartilage,

my voice has served me well.

And I have put it to use! My opinion 

is never kept to myself.  I know a

lot and am not afraid to show it. 

My voice alone wins arguments

and conquers foes with its

wisdom and judicious reasoning

(or at least my its volume).

But now, it is time for me

to be silent. I must silence my

own voice to hear the cries

from the streets, from the parks,

from the young who rise up,

from the old who say “not again”

from the people whose own

voices have been dampered, 

voices that have been misunderstood,

voices that have been ignored,

voices that have died out,

because society has placed its

knee on the neck of those

who only want us to hear them

say, “I can’t breath."

I am listening. I am waiting. 

Please tell me what to do.