SandScript 2020

The Voice, Lost; Inspiration, Found
A.Z. Chance Martinez
POETRY
Who are you? You—who couldn’t choose?
You, who dared light that fuse,
Only to lose and lose, over and over!
Seemingly faster and faster––
A wild thing with no master,
It is your voice—your voice that sings––
Which rings, through my mind,
This is why, you, I seek to find!
Freedom of this bind; once, my muse
But alas, simply, only, a fleeting ruse,
But one, again, I’d choose, for you
Inspire such love, pain, joy; yet you
Know not what you do, for you
Of so very few, but again, alas
This feeling too, shall inevitably pass!
So, to another, who shall inspire;
Feeding an ever-growing, ravenous pyre
Consuming, entirely, frail sanity
Seeking out any who would free me––
Calling out any, who’d make that choice!
Screaming out; a dying plea…
Then, only then, did vision come to me;
There! hidden in front of me; the voice
Inside which continued to hide,
Found, before one drowned—rejoice––
You were never that face; another––
You were one and the same; together
In that place, the face in the mirror;
That needn’t ever fear, for no matter
Your voice, true, begs to be let go—
Begging, needing to scream to show
A daz’ling display of fireworks…why
Can we never, truly, fully see that voice
That echoes inside of me—a cry
Begging to be found in every dying sound…
Singing, only wishing, yearning to be free;
Our voice, our rock, hidden upon the ground
Needing, waiting, ever-lively, ever patiently
To be found; truly, undeniably unbound—
Free…to be, to sound, for all to see
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