On Bones and Voices

I tiptoe around the edges of my voice

Cautious

You are clear

Resonant

A bell, ringing

I write, you paint

I wordsmith,

Beat ideas against an anvil

Heat, fire, work, reshape, hammer, pound.

You flow, effortless as a stream

Words are water from your heart.

I know better than to be jealous

Such clarity only grows in soil of pain

Practice and persistence

I imagine you have faced fangs of snarling darkness

In pursuit of truth

Art.

In my truest moments

I open my closet

Unpack the skeletons

Lay flat them on bare floor

Stare them down

Eye for eye

Tooth for tooth

I become them

And decide