i hate being still
without the rush of the wind filling my ears
as the silence begins to creep back in
i hear them again
their voices sharp
piercing me to the very core
asking me The Very Big Questions:
“why are you Here?"
“what are you Doing?"
they are always there
the council of jurors, critiquing me,
judging me, wondering where i went wrong
needling my mind with their pointed inquiries
the voices are not mine
parents, teachers, pastors, friends
i’ve carefully remembered every criticism
and thoughtlessly forgotten every applause
i run, no, i race
so that the wind might rush past my ears once again
i wish for it to one day be enough
for someone to just exist, and for that to have
Immeasurable Value
