Until We All Have Voices
I lost my voice at fifteen, when it faded into adolescent memory.
“Aa-E-e-e-I-i-O-U and sometimes Y-i-i-ih.”
Jars of Clay please, please, please,
EEEeeee-eee-eeJesus, there’s a needle in my neck!—
Meet Joe Black
I love you
snap, snap, snap
Sarah Stankorb is an Ohio-based writer who covers politics, religion and women’s issues. Her articles and essays have appeared in publications including The New York Times, The Washington Post, Slate, Salon, CNNMoney, Longreads, The American Prospect and GOOD Magazine. She's on Twitter @sarahstankorb.
More by this author
My parents are from the Rust Belt, words supposed to encapsulate the decay, the abandoned workplaces.
More in this series
I hope the voices of people who haven’t necessarily had the words when they needed them can also be heard.