The Pen Speaks My Mind

I have always said, my written word, speaks louder than my voice.

I can recall and remember, Then I take my time, ensuring timelines are on point, details are coherent, ruminate each rewrite and carefully craft each written word.

If I were to use my voice, I fear, I either will short change the story I am about to share or worse, exaggerate and elongate the tale I am about to tell.

Once they leave my voice, There’s no offer to taking back, nor redo’s, nor retractions.

Once recited, it left my thoughts, through my voice pass through my lips then without fail it’s gone forever, without a copy of what was said.

Or worse… becoming a he said versus they said, with truth muddled somewhere in between.

Perhaps, when I speak, I get clumsy at the podium, and stutter my words as I know I will. It’s then I have lost my pace then my purpose.

Once I finish, I became my worst enemy, I try to recall my words but best I can do is ruminate.

So I return to the page, where my thoughts slow down, where truth doesn’t tremble, and clarity waits for me.

Here, the pen speaks my mind— and finally, I hear myself, before anyone else does.