The Voice
The Voice


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
Pa
infully 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