A poem for SM awareness month 2015

Some days my rusted tongue is freed, set free
upon a breath of light and chink of air -
in whispers first, as whispers are the key
to later, roaring, raging like a bear.
Some days the rusted door is set ajar,
and out the shadows of my whispers waft -
my face is near but voice is from afar
at first, but then I sing and hoot aloft.
Some days I hoot of silence to the sun;
I hoot, uncaged, of freedom of the tongue
but yet, by dusk, unfree, I am undone:
my mouth rusts shut each eveā€™ning and I'm wrong.
Some days my rusted tongue is freed, I rage
until the iron nighttime of my cage.

Carl Sutton (Sept 29th 2015)

This poem, based upon my own experience of Selective Mutism, was recorded by performance poet Mab Jones for Selective Mutism Awareness Month and National Poetry Day 2015. Mab experienced Selective Mutism herself as a child and young adult, but literally found her voice through writing and performing poetry. Mab is the first ever Resident Poet in the National Botanic Garden of Wales; is a regular performer, columnist and blogger; and runs poetry workshops in schools, at festivals, arts events, charities, businesses, and more. Read more about Mab's experience of SM and finding her voice:  Poetry changed me: Mab Jones. "Mab Jones' poetry is suffused with a cool wit and a wisdom beyond her years. She is a superb performance poet in the tradition of Joolz Denby and Pam Ayres and, like them, her work is beautifully layered and contains bittersweet depths." - Phill Jupitus

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