I just want to start this post with a reflection. To the best of human knowledge, we are the only beings able to create true art. A lot of that art is manual-- Painting, sculpting, building-- But a good share of it is verbal: Singing, poetry, things like that. We have a very unique gift when it comes to having a voice. Human speech is the most diverse and complex method of communication known to man. You are in possession of the most beautifully complicated sound-maker on Earth. Isn't that something?
I have a lot of different influences when it comes to my writing. Some of it is inspired by rap lyricism, some of it by the books I read, and some of it from rock lyrics. My biggest inspiration, though, comes from other poets; One in particular is a man named Anis Mojgani. Anis has a voice, and he uses it powerfully and beautifully.
That is his most popular poem, "Shake the Dust". I highly recommend his work, including this poem and another titled "For Those who Can Still Ride an Airplane for the First Time".
Everyone who has a voice is capable of doing amazing things with it. For me, my writing and my speaking go hand in hand. To me, they're the same art, because I not only write poetry, I speak it publicly as well. In fact, I believe that reading a piece in text and hearing a piece spoken are two completely different experiences.
As I was reflecting upon these truths in a church one morning (Yes, I know, I should have been paying attention), I began to scribble down a little something on the bulletin. This piece is what it became.
I Have a Voice
I have a voice. It’s not deep and imposing, like James Earl Jones. It's not terribly charismatic like David Letterman. It can carry a tune… well enough. Sometimes it cracks, or even gets lost, but it’s my own, and I use it.
I have a voice. I use it to laugh and cry, to scream and shout… Trust me, I can let it out, my fire within and my strength without. My writing helps me do that, like a key unlocking all of the pathos so I can speak my mind. Sometimes, though… Sometimes my voice gets me into binds. Sometimes, my voice doesn’t obey; it crosses its arms and rolls its eyes and looks away. Sometimes my voice just won’t come, won't answer. But sometimes, my voice knows it needs to be heard.
I have a voice, and these days I’m getting really good at using it. I have friends with their own voices, and I know I have something worth saying. I know that some people don’t have a voice, but still need to be heard.
The German Exchange boy, greeted every day by a high school full of jeering salutes with extended arms, like cannons from a battleship.
The girl with shaking hands and scarred wrists, retreating to rehab for the third time.
The old man stricken by thugs and muggers on his way to visit his wife’s grave.
Too many of us that have voices lay complacent, forgetting the thousands who lay hoarse and exhausted, unable to speak. We have voices, and we do a grave injustice not to use them.
I have a voice, and I will stand up in front of microphones and behind podiums, on stages, on street corners, in basements and in restaurants, and I will speak. I will NOT speak to the corrupted suits, I will NOT speak to the insurance companies, I will NOT speak to the cynical and the apathetic.
I have a voice, and I will speak to the writers and the musicians, to the speakers and to the poets. I will speak to the citizens, the civilians and the foreigners. I will speak to you, and I pray that you will listen,
Because, God damn it, I have a voice! And the only crime I am unwilling to commit for my cause is silence.
I have often been called out on being a pretentious speaker, or on being a know-it-all, and maybe (read: quite possibly) I am, and I apologize sincerely for that, but these are things that are obvious, that are great, that are important. To me, a voice is a terrible thing to waste. If you have a voice and a set of beliefs but passively and idly sit by as the changes you don't want happen, you're doing your voice, your beliefs, and yourself a terrible act of disrespect.
