The Voice by Sam Tanielu

The voice of my father

The voice of my mother

The voice of my sister

The voice of my two brothers

These are the voices that guide mine

When the guide lines are not clear

Shh, their voices, the voice

The voice of my girlfriend

Is the sweet voice of hope

When this heart gently weeps

When the voice of this cold world

Raises its voice like drumrolls and DRUMROLLS

AND DRUM R O L L S and

Shh, her voice, the voice

The voice of my culture

When the voice of my people’s cries

Reflects the

‘nail across a chalk board’ voices of

Oppression, repression and suppression

The voice of Nafanua

Who became the voice of pre-Christian Samoa

Before the missionaries and sky piercers

Had our country in a missionary position

Forcing us to lower our voices

Because it didn’t fit in with their

Image of our people as being ‘noble savages’

Shh, our voice

The voice of marginalised people

Who have had their voices

Taken away by the same voices

That took our revolution

And are now selling it back to us

At glassons and supre

As Che Guevara t-shirts

The voice of marginalised people

Who have had their voices taken away

By the same voice who gives

Paradoxical promises

Like the “war on terrorism”

Or the “fight for peace”

Shh…ut the fuck up

The voice for people

Who avoid the truth

Adn don’t see the need in fearing Jesus

Who don’t care for freedom

Who don’t dare to be different

Scared to be themselves

The voices of living hell

Shh

The voice of

Kerouac

Ginsberg

Tamasese

Levertov

Palahniuk

Bukowski

Waldman

Wendt

Ihimaera

Tusiata Avia

Malcolm X

Maybe even that drunk lady who screams obscenities at me

Everytime i walk past her house.

These voices are not restricted to boundaries

They have lived the dreams of my sleep

Finding their voices in the crowd of shouts and screams

The echoes of their voices are endless

The type of voice i want mine

To be remembered as.

My voice, The voice