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The Voice

The Voice

1 min
274


Shh...

Be quiet, be still

Witness wilderness be tranquil

Listen!


A whisper, a sound

Deafening in the quiet ground

Hoarse as if unused

Hesitant as if fearing to be eschewed


Mayhap a touch familiar

Or strange altogether

See around,

Nothing but flowing green unbound


So what made the sound?

Better yet who made the sound?

Close your eyes

Let the eyelashes kiss in broad daylight


There's that voice again

A silent plea awash with pain

Unbridled it screams

Upon realizing that someone's listening


A volcano of ignorance

Explodes shocking the ambiance

Endless hurt

Bubbles forward


Uncountable insults

Frothily bursts

Unimaginable humiliation

Painfully burns

Helplessly the voice unloads all


Bringing attention to many faults

Eventually, it gentles

Yet now nothing is simple and subtle

Faced with sins committed


Against our own self

By no one

Just to please those who are unimportant

The tranquility now babels

The wilderness suffocates


The profundity of self-harm percolates

Rendering speechless

Abused and neglected, yet the voice now tries to sooth

Forgiving its tormentor oddly soon


Armed with forgiveness

Along with the new knowledge

Try to curb the want to please others

While inner peace suffers


Try to listen some more

It never will guide you offshore

Try to be the wilderness

Imperfect but still abashed about self


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More english poem from Mrunalini Deonikar