Laryngitis

Laryngitis

Song of oats,
crisp bells against a metal scoop,
then percussion, precise,
lid pressed shut before
rainstick music of chia seed.
My throat is dry.
No sound comes out.
Still, my breakfast is singing.   

The Prompt

If you guessed that I have laryngitis, you’re correct. I don’t remember ever having my voice abandon me so suddenly and completely. It’s made for a strange day—one in which I’ve realized that, apparently, I talk and sing to myself all day long. This might be the first poem I’ve ever written without saying the words aloud. The silence is a little unnerving but also feels, somehow, like an invitation. Like entry into a different conversation. One that includes things like the singing of oats.

I’ve thought and written a lot about my voice this morning. About my earliest memories of it. About the first time I ever heard a recording of it, and how aghast I was—is it really that squeaky to everyone else’s ears? About the thousand times I was reminded Lisa, no singing at the dinner table and Lisa, you’re off key. About the fact that, insecurities notwithstanding, I can sometimes be found singing at the gas pump or in the locker room shower. About how, among other things, my own voice can feel like a friend.

If you’d like to fiddle about with a prompt today, then I invite you either to snatch up the word “voice” and use it however your muse commands or to take a little more time and settle into a reflection about your voice and your relationship with it.

Do you sing in front of other people? Do you sing when you’re alone? Why or why not? Do you have a favorite shower song? Favorite karaoke tune?

What is it like to listen to a recording of your own voice (either speaking or singing)? Do you notice any particular physiological responses or sensations?

What are your earliest memories related to your voice? What are your earliest memories about the voices of the people around you?

Have you more often been told to lower your voice or to speak up? Would you rather be a little on the loud side or a little on the quiet side? What’s more comfortable for you, speaking or listening?

If you’d like to take the reflection a little further, join me in some portion of my goal of not speaking/vocalizing at all today. In my case, I’m just trying to heal my laryngitis ASAP so I can go back to belting Old Crow Medicine Show and talking with other humans, but I’ve been surprised by the different things I’m noticing, sensing, and thinking within this forced silence. If you’re chatty like me and have a window of solitude (or family members who are supportive of your idiosyncratic requests), maybe give this a go for an hour or so? See what bubbles to the surface?

Woah, this just bubbled to the surface for me . . . this is the 100th post! We made it, friends. Thank you for taking this journey with me! I’m excited to keep traveling together. I’ll send out one more post between now and the New Year and then weekly posts in the year to come. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your holidays. I hope you find yourself surrounded by love and/or warmed from the fire within.