-- by: Cicely Joi
Aug. 17 2006
you asked me to get up there and speak....
saying my words are worth the attention of open ears.
I'm deep huh?...
my lips are profound?
So why can't you listen when I tell you my thoughts??!
Why are my words so wrong to you?
Why are they twisted, misunderstood and intent made unclear?
Why should I feel safe about flowing to strangers when you..my family
can't even follow?
My words fall silent tired of having to explain the voice behind it each
I used to retreat to my red book...my black book...a scratch piece of
paper...a napkin...ANYTHING that can help form my thoughts into characters
that could be definite.
Characters without a voice so they are just exactly what they are meant to
be....no other explanation needed.
No justification...no proof...no regret.
I write on anything to just feel the satisfication that at least
SOMETHING...inanimate as it may be...will understand.
No Questions asked.
I feel many times it (that little torn piece of napkin with cookie crumbs
nestled in the black freshly wet inked words that bled through the 1-ply
fibers) is my only true confidant.
That friend that's always there to pick up the phone when i need to
that is out with me getting a cup a coffee when i need a comfortable
that doesn't care what time of day it is to be there and ready to hear my
My only true best friend.
Sadly that torn up piece of napkin is just a reflection of myself. The
only one who is routing for me, understands my words, and allows me the
comfort of feeling ok to just be me.
So why do you insist I speak to strange ears?
Will they understand the emotions that created it? Can they follow me in
the memory of my experiences?
I don't claim to be clever with my words... I'm not the one to speak to
wake the blinded and ignorant mind.
When I walk up to the mic..all I have to speak is Me.
My pain, my glory, my happiness, my annoyance, my amazement, my curiosity,
My delivery is not forceful and poignant. I'm not concern with rhythm and
Strange ears are waiting for something creative and grabbing.
I can only promise the complexity of Me....
You, my family never can handle that..
so why do you insist i get up there and speak?