In the Quiet

My soul was in solitary confinement.
And so I lived.
Needs, wants, loves…trampled.
No course changes on my behalf.
Brutally smashed into a different mold.
The pulp of me collected and slammed into an idea of not me.

Me, my voice, my soul.
I am alive.
A quiet gentle whisper.
Not forceful at all.
And yet strong as iron.

Frightened like a stray.
Unsure of the possibility of a positive outcome.
But distinctly there.
In the quiet, I can hear me.