If I Could Tell A Story

To those who want to speak out

If I could tell a story,

with sentences well composed,

like stage performers who rose,

when the silence was greatest.

Who wove words like thread

into every shaking head

despite the disapproving glances.

Taking chances on writing

because inside they were fighting

with demons and monsters.

Demons who told them,

they were doing it wrong,

who lied as they cried

singing sad lonely songs.

Conflicted writers,

depicted as fighters

convicted for crimes against speech.

Every voice that took to the stage

and enraged a nation

with ideas thought stupid.

If I could tell a story.

Of the time I was broken,

when I stepped from my bed

as though rudely awoken

by terrors of the night,

who were people I knew,

the bullies who tortured me,

and the unlikely few

Who made it much further,

than I ever could,

and should I follow their footsteps?

Left, right, left again.

and then what?

Nothing but a parrot,

reciting someone else’s story.

If I could tell a story,

nothing gory, nor graphic,

about the time when I decided,

I’d play with the traffic.

Yes. I was foolish

but if it took a car bumper

and a dirty ripped jumper

to give me a story,

I’ve got to do better.

If I could tell a story,

that grows longer each day,

it would give me a reason,

a purpose to stay.

If I could tell a story,

I’d leave it to my mind,

to write and recite the past

that lasted on rewind.

If I could tell a story,

would I shake the world today?

If I could tell a story,

Would you hear the words I say?