All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Muted Fall
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there
to hear it, does it make a sound?
For years they called me moth-mouth.
Said I learned to speak by listening
to the moths outside my window at night,
stealing my voice from the brushing of their wings.
I lived in between places.
Home was the walk from school to my dad’s house,
where I let crystal tears soak my skirt
in silent outbursts.
Every day I waited for the rain to come
so it would wash away the salt stains
wrinkling my cheeks.
I looked at myself in the mirror and
I never believed it was me I was looking at.
Never felt like I had a face
as if I were already gone, already a ghost
of the life I never had.
I don’t think I ever learned how to speak.
There is a difference between knowing a language
and knowing your voice.
As I walked in between places,
I felt myself vanishing
Storyless. Handless.
And I knew that if I fell
with no one there to hear me
I wouldn’t even make a sound.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.