With My Outside Voice
We’ve been taught
to wait our turn,
to ask politely—
we do not want to appear greedy.
We’ve been taught:
just a pinch of salt,
just a dash of sugar,
nothing in excess.
We’ve been taught:
raise your hand,
keep your voice down,
no talking in church.
We’ve been taught to
never make a scene,
but I simply cannot abide.
I am one part questions,
two parts hunger.
I am a million prayers
and deep hope
wrapped up in one.
I am famished and hopeful,
eager and humbled.
I am using my outdoor voice inside.
I am saying,
Not just my feet,
but my head and my hands!
I want to go where you go.
Poem by Rev. Sarah Speed
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