White Wall of Wonder

Today I read poetry aloud from a black binder half
the length of my arm-
no pages were laminated and the white pieces
were sticking out like they just had too much to say
and couldn't be contained.

I tried to raise my voice.
It protested.

It was strong enough, I didn't need my mind
when my heart was already working its gears
and nothing was squeezing my throat tight
for these cries will reach you.

So don't pick up a microphone, don't hold on
to a carved podium, let your lips be your meter
and let every wall around you seek them.

Seep into the souls of everyone who is listening.
Paint the pieces of your soul onto the beige-washed
walls that represent a classroom but are like a
palace stripped from reflections so you could start
anew.

And somehow, it wasn't like a prison to me.
I fell above and underneath the chipped cracks
and somehow learned how to build my voice
back up...

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written 2/16/13 at 10:58 pm