My Voice is a Doorway
This poem reflects how I learn to trust the rhythm of my truth. I enjoy expressing my journeys of returning to my body, honoring my voice, and allowing what’s sacred in me to speak without shrinking.
When I share this writing, I offer it as both a mirror and a medicine—first for myself, and also for anyone learning to follow the sound & flow of their own becoming. I speak this as a way to return home, again and again.
Opening Pulse
I open my mouth and the stillness stirs in me. She is not always loud. And not always ready. When she speaks it is because something inside her refuses to be swallowed again.
She says what our body already knows. And everything shifts when she does.
My voice is a sacred root that grows out of repressed thoughts and untold stories. Again and again. She is wind that carries names she wasn’t given but always knows. She is the crackle of rage in our heart when the truth gets tired of waiting.
Sometimes she doesn’t know what she’ll say until the breath comes and we feel the alignment in our body. We trust our process with grace to know that When the window opens and our breath is present We follow.
The Sound Moves through Me
There are mornings my voice sits in our hips, refusing to rise until I sway into acceptance. I gyrate our body to the rhythm of our blues. Some days, she catches fire in our sacral chakra and we hum to make way for the intense release.
My throat? She’s a river with memory. She knows the weight of words we never said out loud. She knows what silence costs.
She carries our mothers’ prayers, our grandmothers’ refusal to beg, the untold stories of our Ancestors. She holds the laughter of our children and the kind of grief we only whisper to the Moon.
I speak with our spine. I speak with our scars. I speak with the parts of us that once hid behind uncertainty and burdens we took on from others.
These are the parts of us that now want to be heard raw, with extreme passion and purpose without makeup, without hesitation. Just breath, blood, presence and truth.
The Spell as Power
I cast my voice with confidence and ease. Every syllable a shimmer of bone and breath amplified with our divine knowing.
When we speak, we’re honoring the rhythm of our truth. We’re shaping ourselves back into wholeness. Each vowel holds a vow: We stand rooted in our power. We speak life into forgotten places. We remember who we are with every breath.
My voice is holy. She moves with devotion, heat and clarity. She’s been baptized in fire and came out singing. She calls in what belongs to me. She clears the path ahead. She makes room for me, as I speak without shrinking.
This is my power and This is my prayer.
Let the Sound Settle
I open my mouth and the sky shifts to stillness to listen and to hold me.
I speak and the ground remembers me. I speak and my spirit expands with acceptance.
I speak and I come back.
My voice is a doorway. And every time I walk through her,
I come home. And I return to me.
Thank you, Spirit. Àṣẹ.