Shouting does not make me hear you better.

Your voice booms naturally, arguing, singing, storytelling…

The boys across the balcony can hear you revving up about the latest political absurdity.

That phrase you repeated to the kids, “indoor voice,” or

the husky-soft wisps that thread through the air vents when you guide meditation,

those voices I can hear, words so calm and clear a megaphone could not silence them.

You want to be heard.

Speak so I can listen.