losing my voice...finding my self

This is my introduction to the blogging world--I tread tentatively and with great insecurity. In the world of hip 20-somethings which I live, I sincerely question what an almost 35-year old hopelessly not-hip mother of two with entirely too much on her plate has to say that could possibly be of consequence.

But I "lost" my voice, five years ago, after 30 years of singing, and there is "music" within me that swells up to the point of aching in need of being released. I pray that you will bear with me, as I rediscover my voice. The timbre has changed, the range is much less comfortable. The tone is different with age, and breath support is sometimes lacking. But for the sake of all that lives within me, I will sing.

This poem was begun in December of 2003, at my husband's Christmas concert. After 12 years of singing together, he now sings alone. I try to be okay with this. Really. It was my choice to take a hiatus for the sake of our children. It was my choice to "allow" Tom to continue to have this outlet. But that doesn't mean it is easy. This was the first and only concert I have attended, I am ashamed to say. But as you read, you will hopefully, as my husband so graciously does, understand why. This blog is my attempt to find my voice...


Losing My Voice

Glorious sound rises and swells—
harmonies rich and compelling
blending in the dark, bitter-cold night.
Delicate white lights shimmer softly
in the background,
warming the soul, if nothing else.
So much the same and
yet so much different.
Lines of melody dear to my
heart but not
on my lips—
how did it come to pass that
joyful voices are raised in song and
mine is not among them?

Tears flow unbidden as I
choke back my own voice
in bitter restraint;
one is not welcome to sing from
where I sit.
And yet “Sing!” is what my
entire being screams—
all passion and
joy and
beauty
trapped within—
welling up like a stomach ailment
and aching much the same.

I do not know if I can bear this
intermission…
so torturous is this stretch of silence,
nearly overwhelming me with grief.
I find no joy in the listening—

It is not enough for my heart to sing;
my voice must be
in duet.


© 2004