there was a time when i had

forgotten how to sing

[perhaps you have forgotten too]

 

my voice became softer and quiet

until finally at last it stilled

except for the rare occasion

when something guttural and deep

released a note or two

 

i remember the echoing silence

and the raspy feeling when i opened

my mouth and nothing poured forth

dry

 

i was a singer from the time i was born

even before my first uttered word

natural in the music and the dance

 

when i try to pinpoint the moment exact

of when my song was stilled—

i think of a particular dark night  

where i sat and wept and held onto

the thought that joy comes sure

with morning’s light

 

this thought–

it got me through

many nights

such as these

 

until that chapter was closed at last

and i realised then that i held the pen

to rewrite

to invent

start afresh

learn again

to show up each and every day

released

 

and in the quiet of the moment

i noticed the rhythm

the beat

the drum

the sound of my very own heart

 

and a melody not altogether different–yet new

was stirred within my soul

and i cleared my throat

 

—and sang

[if it happened to me

you might experience it too]

 

Heather Pound 2024

Photo by Matthew Jungling on Unsplash