A Song Within - Poem by Amy Wallace

There is music in me, a quiet, trembling ember I hold close. Songs rise like dawn inside my chest, melodies that feel like truth finally remembering how to breathe. They thread through the shadows of my thoughts, soft as morning light leaking through closed curtains, gentle as a heartbeat I thought I’d lost.

Music has always been the place where I exist fully, where I am not ghost or shadow but color and pulse, and something almost whole. It is the language of my soul, the quiet conversation between fear and hope, a tender reminder that I am still here, still breathing, still feeling.

Yet fear follows softly. I worry my voice might crack like thin ice, that one wrong note will echo louder than all the right ones. I fear the laughter, or worse, the silence afterward.

And still, I tread gently through the sound that means everything to me, trusting that even a trembling voice can find its song. Even if it shakes, even if it falters, it reaches beyond the fear, and in its soft rise, I am seen, I am heard, I am alive.