Pain

The silent woman sits and breathes –

Do her unspoken words fall into the leaves

to be as lost as spilled wine?

Her unexpressed emotions-

Do they fly into the commotion of the wind

as it flows around her

Do they blow away from her busy mind?

Is she lost in thought?

Or just lost

in pain’s unending bind.

If she tries to recover her spilled wine

surely it has turned into vinegar with time.

Only she knows - as silent as the ground

yet makes not a single sound.

The mystery of the silent woman

is as mysterious as pain itself.

Subject only to those who live in it’s steel trap-

To feel and interpret it’s rap rap rap !