I hide
my true voice,
the one voice
whispering
from my heart
during remote,
reclusive hours
between
sleep and speculation.
I must decide:
am I narrator
of my own legend
or a carefully-outlined
character of common
archetypes?
It remains
to be written.
Am I
a sarcastic stooge
cracking jokes
breaking tension?
No.
My dry wit deliberate developing
after disparate drafts
and multiple revisions.
Am I
an impassioned parson
spewing
righteous indignation
condemning
a fallen nation’s failings?
No.
I believe
in humanity’s constitutional
kindness
I reject
the pious sins
of self-proclaimed judges.
Am I
a romantic lead
covered on
check stand novels?
No.
I’ve sampled love,
but never
long enough
to savor it.
My true tone
and rhythmic
heartbeat
changes
hour by hour
day by day
yet remains
guarded
shackled
until
keyboard taps
uniting words
liberating
my soul.
