~Esther Mitchell, 2014~
I wish I had a magic formula,
One that would make you see me,
See more than this shell,
See how much more I am,
Than the frame you pass by every day.
I wish I knew an incantation,
That would let you see my words,
The ones trapped in my throat,
The ones that escape only on the tip of a my pen,
This inked tongue turns free my words,
Uncages the feelings held prisoner behind the bars of my chest,
Shut up by the squeeze of my throat,
Letting air in, air out, but never a sound.
The words that matter don’t come out of my mouth,
They come from my fingers,
From the loud shout of my pen,
And yet, I remain invisible,
Because I can’t find the spell to make myself seen,
To make myself heard.
I wish I knew a magic trick,
To turn your eyes my way,
To make my wooden throat real.
I don’t know the magic words,
To take my fear of your indifference away,
Or give me wings to fly above the doubt,
And the courage to let my words out.