Photography & Poem by Curtis Beaird
The eye may be the window of the soul
but, our voice sings the song of our spirit.
Her voice excites. I am glad for the energy. Her voice nurtures. I warm myself at its sound. Her voice is soft and quiet. I am glad for the peace. With the sound of her voice, she touches my soul. I am glad for her touch.
With the sound of her voice, she can speak a world into existence or empty life of its meaning, at least for a moment. Sometimes I celebrate the sound of her voice at other times I feel I need to recover from it.
To hear her, regardless of what is being said, is to be touched, addressed, spoken to at a level beyond and deeper than the conscious. Deep calls unto deep. The unspeakable is heard and felt even when she simply answers the phone, “hello.”
When souls resonate, intimacy occurs. Our voice carries the message. The words don’t always matter. The tone of voice always matters. With the voice we attend to what we love, who we love. The sound of her voice.
Other voices I hear. Her voice I resonate to. Other voices communicate words of greeting, direction, and information. They stand for and bridge a relationship of business, friendship, acquaintance or associate. Her voice strikes fire in my soul. The unnoticed sky becomes a polished blue. Trees sing. My soul sings. I laugh, weep, hum a forgotten tune, whistle, or chatter endlessly. She speaks and energy flows. She speaks and I gladly will take on the world.
The sound of her voice makes me glad I am alive. The sound of her voice makes me glad I am a man. The sound of her voice makes me glad.
The bridge between seeing and holding is a conversation. The subject doesn’t matter. The sound of her voice does.
What miracle, what magic, what alchemy of soul carries itself in the soft warm sound of her voice? With her voice she banishes fear, soothes and caresses challenges and delights. The fascination that is her, the mystery that is her, I find and know in the sound of her voice.
Copyright 2006, Curtis Beaird. All rights reserved.