There are things in life worth hearing.

Results of a cultivated hate

There are things in life worth hearing.

That I don't give a what? It's not one of them

There are times when I would like to have the ability to change back time.

I would not change anything. I would only want to be there as the voice I lost when I got to the States. The voice I grew up with as a child in South America.

The voice of respect, the voice of honor, the voice capable of humbling pride and teach a lesson.

The voice consisting of the beautiful sounds from wise elders. The elders who with love, told it like it is.

The voice that even with barriers; breaks through as an instinct navigating open ears through life.

The voice of a neighbor, a stranger, a vendor, the drunk at the bar playing dominos on a Saturday night, the voice of the poor as well as the rich. The voice of wisdom that truly stands the test of time.

The voice I felt humbly whisper:

I am still here!

 I’ve only been muffled by the change of hemispheres. I knew you would find me again old friend.

The voice of reason willing to stand through the darkest rains and coldest of storms. The sweet sound tearing through places within my soul seeking an understanding to gain wisdom. The voice keeping me up at night breaking my heart by revealing in every thought. The voice that while teaching me to love patiently and continued listening, it also reminds me to honor an eternal code.

The voice that revealed itself through hunger, pain, and agony for a given reason. The voice I hear today clearly telling me to continue the road. The voice telling me, I will not be heard unless spoken.

My Grandmothers’ Voice. My Grandfathers’ Voice. My father’s voice. The voice of My brother who passed defending others too early in his season. The voice of every aunt, uncle, cousin, brother, true family member speaking love inro my early ear. The voice of a fourteen-year-old child who gave birth to a voice. The woman too young to know, but wise enough to understand unconditional love. The woman who will always have a shoulder to cry on extended with open arms.

The voice telling me to see passed the hate and ignorance and continue the course.

The strong spirit in my heart creating the voice writing these words.

The voice that loves with understanding and learning from your confusion.

The voice that will speak differently indifferent from an illusion.

The voice that awaits eagerly with hope, to hear the voice one day.

Dedicate with love and kindness from a heart struggling but focusing on The Road.

Tomasa, Luis, Jorge, Jorgito.

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