My voice is emerging,
writhing in pain under the boot of the new order,
struggling to find its way to strength.
My voice is the endless wind
felt on my children’s cheeks,
their ears ringing with love and support.
Constant, beating, ever-present, like an ocean breeze.
My voice is a rainbow that brightens the sky after a storm.
A candle that illuminates a dark room.
A bright star shining light in a dark night.
My voice is a whisper telling where I am.
A question asking where I should be.
A shout demanding,
I am here!
I've been told "you don't say much,
but when you do,
what you say really matters."
I don't want to talk loudly.
I want to speak
My voice is a poem folded into an origami crane.
Written on little pieces of paper,
scraps of thought hidden in the folds.
My voice is in the service of those
whose voices are ignored or unheard—
young girls of color who hold promise and inspiration
for a world that welcomes their magic.
My voice is a thunderclap
that breaks the silence of the void,
illuminating the thoughts
that are lost in darkness
My voice is not afraid
to take the lead talking about
racism, power, privilege.
Stand up, speak out.
Together, our voices are immense.
Forming a network at the crossroads,
an oath of solidarity.
breaking from the usual.
to make a difference.