Speak
By: Eric Hagen

I wonder if the young me,

beating on the walls of social hierarchy,

would see the me now as someone who sold his beliefs

if he'd notice the razor's edge of intellect, the fire

behind the eyes built by the years

of what can never be unseen, the being in their moment, my moment,

the momentum of words to page, on stages under the hot

lights, eyes, would he follow the trail of burned ignorance to see

how deep, how far I'm willing to go to hear the voiceless

Speak.