The Voice

The Voice

Sometimes when I'm standing still
and all the world around me is quiet,
I can almost hear it.
The syllables are not quite discernable and I am both
tempted to strain my ears and to run.
To run to another voice - a clearer voice - a voice that is louder
and so I turn on the television
scanning channels to hear something that will still this restlessness.
In my frustration, I pick up the telephone
vainly calling out to those within reach but still,
no voice to quiet this murmur within me.
A temporary diversion perhaps, no permanent solution.
I busy myself with people and things;
attentively listening to all the voices, hoping to find one that I can mimic.
And yet always in the quiet the whisper of the familiar,
something longing to be heard.
My own voice, quiet yet strong and sure;
wanting to be discovered, hoping to get louder, struggling for my attention.