Hush Little One
The trees whisper, hush little one,
You are welcome here.
They’ve witnessed my struggle,
My longing to be wild, to be free.
First with youth and mistaken adulthood,
Then with drink and disguise.
Now wild with art, creation, truth.
No longer afraid to be seen, I am visible.
I break my silence in ways that belong to me,
Words no longer caught in my throat.
Doors open, words dance in the wind, on the page,
Knowing only they rejoice to be free.