I have words
And they will be heard.
They scream through my skull
Bouncing around, seeking release.
Unlimited to pen and paper, but quill and parchment
Ink and human skin
Scrabbling broken fingernails in dry dirt or smoking metal in the bark of trees.
Every look, flicker, flutter, every gesture of eyelash and lip,
Every twitch of hand or shrug of shoulder,
Every breath -
Another story yet untold.
Who are you to cage my words?
They should soar;
Who are you to still my tongue?
I’ll free it to the wind,
You shall see...
They will roar in the cannon of the water on the rocks;
Shriek in the birds fleeing through an airless sky;
Crackle in the inferno that dances from tree to tree;
Whisper in the cries of a starving child;
Moan in the tears of a wounded soldier far from home.
I will take up these stories,
These tales from time immemorial;
I will tell them around the campfires
And scratch them on public walls
And send their smoke to the furthest hilltops.
The world will hear my words.
It will see me.
© mjc 06 January 2013