The prompt for today's poetry was to write in a distinctive voice, like the voice of a well-known character. Instead I thought about voice and wrote about voices...
If I had a choice
I would raise my voice above
the babble of everyday
where children play in the rubble.
There is a whisper inside
my head; it denies all that others
have said and the chant
echoes in the dank cavern of my mind.
I thought I heard
a voice; loud but sweet
singing in the street below
the window I had opened
for the warm wind blowing from
the northern desert plains
to clear the room of memories
of you, our love, my aching womb.
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