Voices

Carried along
By voices that tell me who to be,
What to think, how to feel,
But is that me?

Content to float
On this torrent of expectation,
Never slowing to consider
My identity

Instead I heed
This test, this degree, this book
This city, this status, this group
This image, this store, this look
This music, this cause, this pursuit
This scholar, this church, this career
This love, this sage, this leader
This duty, this formula, this fear

These voices
This noise
This noise

All the lies about me
And the flattery too
Have become the cushion where I lay my head
Amid the din of carnival clamor
But I’m waking
And searching for a mirror
Away from the funhouse distortion
Away from this sound pollution
These voices
This noise

Let me hear One Clear Voice
Above the whispers, murmurs, and yells
Merge Your voice with mine
Until I don’t hear anything else
Let my mirror reflect what You see
Your image in me

Your image
Your voice

Your voice


Your quiet
Quiet voice
Your gentle
Gentle breath
Whispers
Whispers to me
“You’re mine
Now rest”