On Your Frequency

A poem written from the bed again

You are not unheard

because you whisper.

You are unheard

because they never learned

to tune into your frequency.

They want loudness,

not truth.

They want neat lines,

not the shape of your grief.

You gave them fire,

they asked for ash.

You gave them roots,

they trimmed them down

for the sake of form.

You are not too much.

You are not too fast.

You are not a problem

to be solved

or a pace

to be slowed.

You are simply

operating

in a world that prefers static.

That is not your fault.

It never was.