If you knew who I am

Speech is overrated

all I do is talk and listen

and verbally respond and proverbially refrain

Be responded to but not remember what

In tongue, in cheek, in words, in what

But nothing ever gets done

In the frame of my season

If I could just be silent and be still

instead.

Perhaps I could move through a sculpture

or sing through a dance

listen with a gentle nudge

speak with a glance
I'd paint between the lines
Articulate the silence of the stars
Compose the hues of ocean depths
With a simple rhythmic move

And stain my freedom with blood and sweat

like my forefathers and mothers did

to provide a house for my lineage

A triage of heritage merits and debt

It's nothing I could repair with my own fret

Or the words that I so mindlessly spit

My movements have grown dull
I'm disenchanted by my own

Impoverished soul

Has my music lost its voice?

Has my motion lost its force?

But I will redeem the time that's lost

I will remain obscure to regain the works of my hands

That speak of a greater Word

Than what I have ever uttered forth.