Kivya Lomax Poet I do not know?

I Speak....Do Others Hear?

I speak loud against the noise that wants to stifle my voice. I speak so the echo 
of my message can be heard above the clamor of the ordinary or the mundane.
I speak volumes unknown to man but are already applauded in heaven so that 
as true wisdom can be heard even by a turned, deaf ear, which has been resting 
in the shadow of routine; never seeking greatness, just able to blend in.
I speak....do others hear the eloquence of the passage of verbage or are they still 
standing in line to be the first to receive, "Yeah man, I'm with it". I pray not; for if 
that is their plight it is sorrowful indeed.
I speak!  Loud, enunciating through teeth clenched like fists, so that every word is 
phonetically correct and pronounced without flaws so that I am not 
misunderstood and what is gained from me is clear.
I speak loud with a husky voice wrapped in honey and a warm blanket so that the 
words are soothing and the message is healing to the very core of man who is 
fighting not to die in a world where language is slurs and slanders and what 
used to be savored as pristine, mot just sounds like distant clanging to this 
generation's untrained ears.
I speak to be understood, to overcome my own obstacles, to encourage myself, 
to bless the lives of others, to teach the babies at my knee and to share my life; 
but when I speak loud, above the waves of twisted idioms and misplaced 
silloquies, am I heard?  
I t is always my thought to speak not just to be heard but to be understood; and 
yet now, I wonder... am I being heard by my precious mother? For it is her 
attention I still desire most and that to me is the most dear to my ear.

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