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Whose Voice Is This?

By David Dragone

Your heart is bloodied enough
so be kind to it
mindful of its confinement—
about how it's been taken into custody
by your jailer's voice—
how its scolding sentence is born
in the room behind your eyes—
about how the mouth that whispers your doubt
is doing hard time
behind despairing windows—
your thirsty ears clapped in irons
for years in a house of scarce applause.
Maybe every cell in your body
right down to the most guarded
is looking for a skeleton key
so you can open the dungeon door
and break away from the chains
that pain you in your cage.
Maybe you'll wonder why
as you turn the lock, your captor—
the one with the ugly tongue
is staring at you from the cracked mirror
just like mine was
as I walked away and my better voice
finally reflected and asked...

Whose voice is this?
How old is it?
and was it ever true?