coming together

There was a man who held silent for years.

Listening to the world with rabbit ears.

Revolving his radar to voice direction; hearing

and feeling with little expression; releasing words

that were analysed and mapped.

You see this man's mouth was tightly wrapped.

It seemed, a tightly coiled spring fixed in his jaw,

viced his lips in a chronic stall; although when

great pressure was applied the spring sprung,

and the mouth opened wide.

The words that escaped were low pitched and

mellow; sending monotoned waves as an aspect

of this fellow. Here what I mean, follow this scene:

his boss would say, "It's about your work, sometimes

brilliant, sometimes dull; inconsistency that's your fall."

As an iceberg he sat listening, then his mouth opened

and words came out hissing, "I appreciate your criticism,

sir!" he said monotonously, "I'll try harder to be what I

should be."

The beat of his heart slammed against his chest; anger

swelled as a wave mounting to its crest. His inside voice

seething with incessant jabber, "That living wart, how dare

he judge my worth. It's him that's the matter. Pure

incompetence encased in a fatty blatter." The blank face

with its iceberg stare, stands up and walks calmly from his

chair.

Still the jabber runs in side his mind, like an endless spool

of twisting twine. "I should have done this... I should have

said that...or maybe even spat in his hat. If my mouth could

only say what is in my mind, then I could be freed from this

terrible bind." He shuffled off in silent gloom, with occasional

murmurs he moved from the room.

That kind of scene continued for years, building a pattern of

anxiety, depression, and tears.

Yet with each encounter his internal lament grew louder, "If

my mouth could only say what is in my mind, and free me of

this terrible bind."

Till, like a chick cracking its shell, his felt need burst from

its internal well. His mouth tuned with his feelings, loosening

that tightly strung jaw for dealing. His lips vibrated freely,

words oozed out rapidly, easily, ideally, expressing his emotional

content, really.

Euphoria sweeped through his inside. The once incessant jabber

ebbed as a morning tide. A great understanding set in his crawl;

that he is responsible for his emotional raises and falls, and that

he holds a right to express them all.

There was a man who held silent for years.

There is a man who speaks of his tears.