How do you perceive your voice?

Vibrations sifting through tissues, extending breath into the greater surround sound. Constantly misfiring. Sometimes ringing true. Resonating in the drum of the chest. Traveling through the bones. Rolling out colour and texture of the interior landscape in sound, rolling them out over the red carpet of the tongue, an invitation to another perception.

a creaky door                               a taiko drum

hysterical hyena

                                           a shaker, shifter, transformator

wind instrument                                                                           billowous

sliding scale, rising and falling                                                                             an endless yawn

                                                                                                   in and out of tune

            barely passing the threshold of the mouth                         projecting to the far reaches of space


                         meek mutter                                 sweet sorrow                        deep sunshine

unintentionally critical                       mercifully yearning

i hear my own echo                                       echoing         voices of all I have heard

                      sweet soother                calmer


                        disarming                                                               sudden blossom

calling up others defenses                                         broken stick

                                                                     undulating current               speak through me

Sending the inside out with the transparency of breath. With the possibility of poetic transmission.

I can speak from my toes, from my head, from my pelvis, from my uterus, from my ovaries, from my heart, from my gallbladder, liver, bile. Sing a symphony of cells in harmonic unison. I can lend my voice to my experience, to my experiencing, to a book, to my ego, to my soul song, to my fear, to my resistance, to loving trust.

Knowing my own voice from an interior experience, embodied, in the speaking, singing moment. Challenging to accept a disembodied version, in a recording, without the resonance in the skull and ribs. Tuning ones own instrument as a constant dance, a life times work never complete. Tuning in conversation, in silence, in movement, in realisation, in song.

Small child, willing playmate, gentle healer. One of a many sounding community, sounding birdsong, pig grunt, howl and hoot, rustle and sigh.

                                         Amplifier of desire, at times hidden, sometimes clear.

© Julia Adzuki 2019