And my very life lived in my voice.

My very wise sister sometimes speaks with the voice of God.

She/He told me where I am and where I must go.

I am in a dark room sitting at a desk,

trying to write--

of course of course I am trying to write.

But my paper is crumpled and refuses to be smoothed

and my ink invisible;

my pen has a feather, but I can't fly with it.

I am worse than Icarus.

Then, into the darkness, a man, an angel, a being

breaks in and throws a javelin (a javelin!) at the wall,

bringing in a beam that illuminates my desk with what I imagine is inspiration

(thank god, a lightbulb above my head!)

But still no words from my quill.

whywonttheycomeoutiknowtheyareinthereifeelthemexpandingandyellingandhowdoiknowwhatithinkunlessiwriteitdown

"Use your voice."

Not just Nancy or Nina or Roxy--Jessie.

"You are known. Speak and you will know it."

My song will not be silenced; I will not be Jonah; my life-voice will live outside the belly of a whale.