I’m still locked in a dilemma around when and how and with whom exactly I should share my writing. It seems to me it is quickly becoming a bizarre paradox. It is through my poetry that I find it easiest to express my true, authentic voice and yet I don’t know that I want it to be heard by anyone. Or at least not anyone who could see the mouth from which the voice emerged. I think my anonymity around my poetry is important, still, at this stage. It gives me the freedom and licence to be truly authentic and expressive and not worry who I might hurt, or disgust, or offend, or any of the other things I fear they might do. However, I think to start sharing them in that anonymous context would be useful and timely now, so they get an airing at least.
I lost my voice this week you see. My real voice, I mean. It was a few days after returning from Wales, when I hadn’t had cause to speak to anyone much, if at all. It occurred to me in an irrational moment that that could well have been the cause of it – that I was living testament to the truth behind ‘use it or lose it.’ I’m still not convinced that’s such a ridiculous idea. I have at least started some solitary vocal exercises, mainly focused around verbalising a bizarre one-person progress check:
‘Have I still lost my voice today?’ I might enquire, politely of myself.
‘Why, yes, but it’s a little better than yesterday, don’t you think?’ I might reply.
It seems ludicrous because that’s not what a voice is for, is it? Talking to yourself? It’s for communicating with others. I think my poems have been talking to themselves long enough and if I don’t start to use this voice I’m on the journey of discovering, in the presence of others, then who knows? Perhaps I will lose it too.