To speak or not to speak

 

Voices

I hear you from your platform

You're a voice for the voiceless you say

Your cause and intentions are noble 

You expose darkness with the light of day

I appreciate the stand you take 

Against atrocities that should never be true

 I am one of the voiceless you speak for

As such I offer a different point of view

It angers you that I was silenced

My voice should have always been mine

But when you speak for me you keep me silent

You take from me a chance to redeem lost time

I don't want your voice to speak for me 

Since you cannot truly understand what to say

Though your heart speaks from a good place 

You have never walked the same broken way

You want to use your voice to change the world

Help those like me who by evil have been silenced

However instead of speaking boldly 

I am asking for your patience 

Instead of using your voice

Will you help me find my own 

The journey will be long and difficult 

But I cannot walk this path alone

I am not sure how my voice will sound 

But I trust that my voice I will learn to hear 

You can change my world as I find my voice

By simply sitting with me and offering a listening ear

      A few months back, I was pondering the idea of "voice."  To be honest, I was afraid mine was lost forever.  As a child, I was threatened with severe punishment and losing everything important to me if I told what was going on.  He never raised his voice at me actually.  The angrier he got, the softer he whispered.  But as his voice lowered, his eyes would scream louder and louder with rage as fear flooded my veins to my very core.  I never said a word.  Even years after it was over, any time I thought of saying something I would be overwhelmed with memories of the rage in his eyes and the fear would land heavy over me like a weight I couldn't stand under.  Even after he was sentenced to prison for what he had done to me and other girls he hurt, the memories of the rage in his eyes and the fear that came rushing back over me kept me quiet, kept me hurting, kept me stuck.

      Last year, I found myself in a place that I was supposed to be safe to speak in.  I was supposed to be able to speak the truth and begin the process of bringing light to the darkness I have carried with me everywhere I go.  But I couldn't.  I wasn't sure I even had a voice anymore.  Despite not being sure if I even had a voice, I also was very bothered by the trend of the day to use social media and the internet to "be a voice for the voiceless."  There are many causes that claim to be just that.  Victims of sexual abuse are one group of the "voiceless" that many who have never walked in our shoes claim to give voice to, and I don't like it.  I wasn't sure what about it rubbed me the wrong way though.  Certainly I did not have the ability to speak up for myself, and there is much work to be done to bring light to the darkness of abuse and how it is handled so poorly so often.  I managed to get my thoughts down onto paper after thinking on this a while.  The above poem is what came of it.  Don't get me wrong...those who speak up for those who can't in this moment are needed.  Their voices are necessary.  I need you to speak for me sometimes, because many times I still cannot do it for myself.  But be sure you do not forget those you are speaking for.  We are not "voiceless."  We have a voice.  God gave us one.  If you will walk with us, you will get to see Him free it from the chains another bound it with.  If you are patient, you will hear us whisper, then speak, and maybe one day we will roar.