the voice

sometimes
a voice takes hold of me,
a voice that feels close,
yet far away,
a voice that feels like mine,
and yet not mine,
a voice that's both
loud and soft,
stern and gentle,
wild and still,
a voice without a form,
or a name,
a voice that grows
from the well in my navel,
or the ocean in my chest,
the voice
that's been forgotten
in this human family
with many mouths to feed,
the voice -
not on stage, but
prompting from the wings,
the voice
that simply wants to be heard
and find its way out,
quietly,
into the heart of the world,
where some voices
are always louder,
always heard.