Each day I sit among the jostling noise
Of dynamic dissonance that pervades my senses
And relinquishes any hope of peace
In the absence of sound, voices
That never quite reach harmony
but waver as wave-like shadows between realms
Of pure melodious expression and heart-wrenching wails.
Listen. My teacher tells me this
As I cringe and press onward in lonely agony
Wanting desperately the unification
such an art form had promised my starving soul.
Listen, He says, or you will never see
A day in which hands can clasp each other
In unmocked sincerity of oneness,
where it is safe to belong to more than just yourself.
Listen. This is the only way
To see your children smile
With unblemished joy in the world
which you forced them into.
Listen, he says, like I never could,
Like my father never would,
Listen to the words, the mistakes
that these voices send into the atmosphere.
Listen. Please. For us,
Who have ever had a voice,
who cried in locked cupboards,
Listen, and Hear.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
Paralysis of expression
Amidst the tumult of inner seizing
As I suffocate among the oxygen
Laden air, my silent sleeping foe
Whose gradual touch halts
The rhythmic beating of my cardiac muscle
Like a mother calming her quailing babe
Under the feathery touch of his infantile pillow.
The slithering filth of his strokes, unmarred
By my fierce belligerence, he stays
Amid my joy, he stands with calm assurance
And clutches as each molecular morsel
In his reach, then fill them
With his soothing poison,
They turn against me, as they lay
Their arms upon the softer ground,
And leave me sinking into panicked stillness
As my lungs heave peacefully in
Their unapologetic laxation
Amidst my sea of screams.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC