Come Into My Own

It is now only I who can sing the song of thought The orchestra between my ears swells with emotion Not only to guide, but to monitor sound Sound I speak with empty fear and full intention I am no prisoner to be withheld from autonomy As well as no criminal to denote destruction I hold my own hand to cross the street It’s a journey from stuck to soaring It is heard, a voice so mighty as the lost A beacon of resistance, drainage of woe It is a voice I seldom recognize But one I take pride in nonetheless I am not held back by toxic reliance Or dread of trust falling But rather wedged between the fingers Of she who steadies her breath