standing next to the light

for the voice that stayed

Sometimes,

rarely,

i think back to what it was like

to be a part of your life

the memories come back unevenly,

like ripped up pages,

that once came from a novel

moments without context,

feelings without names

it’s hard to distinguish what was real,

what i felt

and what it really was

i was lost

not all at once,

not in ways others could see,

maybe they could,

but didn’t speak,

i disappeared slowly,

in conversations that moved too fast,

in rooms where your voice

arrived before anyone else’s,

in stories that somehow

always found their way back to you,

when you are around someone

who lights up the room,

who knows exactly what to say,

that speak for you,

where does that leave you?

where do you put yourself?

at first,

you don’t really take notice,

you are kind

and are modest,

you tell yourself,

their confidence is their assurance,

they want to be heard,

they want to sound strong,

then,

as time goes on,

you realise,

they don’t want to listen,

only to be heard

you stop interrupting,

you stop correcting them,

you stop adding your version

of what happened,

because they will speak it,

louder,

and louder,

it may not even be your truth,

but soon enough,

you are seen

but not heard,

people know your face,

your name,

that you belong beside them,

but they don’t know

what you think,

what you dream of,

what you fear,

what makes you laugh,

the things that matter to you

those details become secondary,

background noise,

a dimmed version of you,

next to this bright,

shiny,

taking up space kind of person

they speak for you,

answer questions directed towards you,

finish your sentences,

translate your silence

without ever asking what it means

and somehow,

when you become quiet enough,

they become frustrated by the quiet,

annoyed that you don’t speak

as if they didn’t spend time

taking up all the space,

you wonder,

if there was ever any room

for your voice at all

and perhaps there wasn’t,

it’s why i needed my voice back,

perhaps we were always looking

for different things,

you needed to be heard,

and i needed to hear myself,

and that’s okay,

for that i’m grateful,

there’s grace,

for you,

but also for me,

because losing my voice

taught me how to find it,

and once i found it again,

it never left

lots of love,

love emm xxxxx