Finding my Voice (April 2009)

Finding My Voice

Stammering through early life
And shy of everyone around me
I worried myself through start-stop, fragmented
Conversations, until one day, I found that
Watching was more fun, and took less effort.
Withdrawn and timid,
I watched the friends around me
Play and fight and I learned right from wrong through
Their experiences.

At my teacher’s desk,
My curled, left-handed scrawl
Drew praise, and I, bashful under kind scrutiny, became a recorder
Of my narrow boyhood world.

At nine, it was time for a Christmas show, and standing like miniature
Soldiers around the piano, our new, austere schoolmistress
Made us sing. Out loud. Alone. Paul Geary
Muttered a near-silent twinkle, twinkle, and Hazel Lee
Whispered a hushed school hymn.

My turn came.
I had watched TV concerts,
And seen that singers seemed to draw energy from
All around them,
Swelling to fill the room with sound.
I did the same, and borrowed a little breath
From each of my school mates. Sound filled the school room:

‘Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war
With the cross of Jesus, going on before’

Our new teacher, pounding out God’s music,
Turned in awe, smiling for the first time, and at Christmas,
I sang alone in front of gathered and expectant mothers,
The morning sunlight shining on my face,
Into my stammer-shunning heart.