(a) Unable or disinclined to speak freely
The motor commands that choreograph speech are a privilege to possess,though I frequently find myself thinking
and the reasons for which I may choose to leave it unbroken.
In my privilege,I frequently forget that an eternal tongue-tie,,
that moment when silence becomes perpetual,,
could be in my future.
Bisected by a trench as old as humanity,two fertile regions of brain work together to produce my speech.
with the energy supplied by a river of blood flow,one part does the thinking while one does the talking.
I take this duo for granted,often forgetting what would happen if that blood flow were blocked,,
if a piece of clot,,
if a sliver of fat,,
were to be shot into my brain
by a single unsuspecting heartbeat.
In a flash,I'd be doomed
to drown in my own swimming thoughts,,
with no chance of coming up for air through the power of glorious expression.
It's volitional tongue-tie turned permanent.
Medicine calls it a stroke;;
I call it a life-sentence in which my thoughts become my eternal cell mates.
How awful it would feel:
to have something to say but to be powerless to say it.
A feeling akin to anger,bubbling like the energy of a river unable to follow its destined course.
Yet,I constantly tie my own tongue,,
tying to fit in,,
tying to avoid confrontation,,
tying out of trepidation,,
forgetting that words are a gift that can be lost in a heartbeat.
I never want to regret my silence.
I'll metaphorically cut my own frenulum of fear.
I'll try to make my own voluntary tongue-tie a thing of the past,,
disentangling the knot of doubt that possesses my tongue.
I'll try to break the silence now,,
while I still can.
Poetry Thursdaysis a weekly newsletter that highlights poems by medical students and physicians.This initiative is led by Slavena Salve Nissan at Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai.If you are interested in contributing,pleasecontactSlavena.