What It Feels Like to Lose One’s Voice

I’m lungs stilled after the final exhale,

the last child in a world of adults.

The wind in the winter with no leaves to rustle,

a cicada who emerged one year too late.

I’m daughter to a father who has only sons,

a mother whose dreams folded with Thursday’s laundry.

Could there be greater suffering than for a lover of words to lose her language?

Whisper to me once more and I’ll learn yours…

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