Speeches

You spoke of verses and audiences

as if their size and number mattered,

as if the volume of my proclamations

made a difference.

 

You spoke also of fear,

and rocks dying quickly under the pressure

of those too-large-for-life

in more ways than one.

 

You never spoke of my great sorrow,

your betrayal, and my agony,

never turned your musing into a flashlight

that could see through to me.

 

Would you speak now of a lingering sore?

Of a wound that will startlingly weep,

seeping time and loss all over

my current happiness?

 

My speeches held yearning, a beckoning

straight from the middle of me,

yet you erased my speeches with your silence

and your fear.

 

So speak not of my flaws, of my public speaking,

of the words I said often to friends and would-be lovers;

your right to speak so of me, to me, was removed

when your decisions silenced my speech.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

When we get treated with negative. We close the door to the words of the speaker. A excellent poem. I like it all.
Coyote