I came into this world with a roar. From my first breath out of amniotic fluid, I had something to say. I greeted the world with a scream and I often wonder what that means, that most of us come screaming into the world. Is it release? Is it fear? Is it the touch of air, the removal of liquid from our lungs? I came into this world roaring.
My mother said I was a baby that just couldn’t be soothed. Colicky and fussy, crying…I couldn’t quiet my roar. It came with me — attached to DNA, my mouth a microphone for lost souls.
I learned to temper it, to put it in its place, this tiny roar of innocence that could be neatly wrapped and folded like origami, tucked away between ribs and expanding lungs.
It’s still fierce and wild, often untamed, pushing at my teeth like bars on a cage. It can’t be trapped or contained. It needs a platform, a place of its own.
This roar
My strength
My ego
My savior
My downfall
My words waiting silently
Kidnapped
Spilled out
Some graceful
Some angry and vengeful
Some raw and bruised
Some of pure beauty and truth.
This roar is what I came into this world with.
The first noise I learned to make.
The moment I took my first breath, my roar took precedence.
I came in with a roar.
I haven’t been silenced since.
For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends Women Who Run with the Wolves
Sip a little more:
Rest Your Head Upon My Heart & Feel The Rhythm Of Life
Let Me Tell You What Type Of Depth I Seek
I Want To Skip The Small Talk & Know The Depths Of Your Being
