I've written since I can remember. When I was a child it wasn't safe to speak, at least it felt that way. Now that I'm old, I realize it may not have been this way but it felt this way and sometimes the dangers were very real as I learned from experience. Because of this, I spoke on paper. I wrote to have a voice and I wrote a lot. I never published though, until my mom died. Oh, she was a cheerleader of mine and often encouraged me to write, but i let the ghosts of my past haunt me into silence. After my mom died, I did begin to consider publishing, if only because my mortality had been brought fully into view, and I felt compelled to share the things I'd so long held inside. But I was still afraid. After some applaud of my work I became even more afraid. "What if I write something really good and it is published and one of the monsters from my past sees it and finds me?" Sounds like the wondering of a child, but the truth is part of me never grew past a certain place because she remained hidden in fear. I continued to publish and be published in spite of the fear and one day, I penned this poem in response to that fear. I don't know what has compelled me to share it today, but I hope someone is blessed by it, and maybe is able to look their monsters and ghosts in the eyes and say NO MORE!!!!
Silent NO MORE
you could tie my hands and feet
but you could not tie me down inside
I found a place there to hide
even you could not find
the words and music washed over me like anointing oil
and I was free
your fist could gag me into silence
and your stares could stop me in my tracks
but when I opened my notebooks
you could not silence me there
and I erased your stares with the words and music
that washed me clean like The Blood of The Lamb
for so long you were the ghost that haunted my dreams
and the skeleton in my closet
but now my pen throws open the windows of my soul
and your dry bones are as dust
billowing out of me like words and music in a notebook from long ago
and I am free
and I am strong
and I am silent no more
by Andora Henson/ October 2, 2007