In this torturous silence That has lasted weeks And burnt the night down to ashes, I could hear my heart beat. Like tiny screams underwater, Water rushing into the lungs. I could hear my blood Walking in my veins Punching the walls, Tearing them through The order of the heart And pour out everywhere They could run in. Outside I lay so still and quiet My mother should be scared Of me losing my voice But she isn't.
I stopped talking at home Long back, When I would hear the shouts, The blows to the doors. I feel my screams During my growing years Consumed the needs for words. So I lay and this silence Isn't odd So no one is afraid for me But I am.
How else do you Know a forest is burning If you don't see the fire. How else would you Know the ocean flooding the shore Unless you feel the waves. But you don't. For you are in your buildings, Behind closed doors, You don't know when it pours Unless you walk out in the street. You don't know the storms, The tremors that could bring you down, But in your barricaded homes You don't. So tell me how will anyone Know I am dying When they don't even see me here? They don't.
But I can feel The waves, The rain, The heat, The water I am swallowing. Because I am all of these And no one anymore Can see.
Don't worry you are not the block, I am the one blocked.
In the silences that preceded the on going one, I used to stutter. I ignored those as irrelevant mumbles But these are the sentences That in those stuttered words were broke. This block helped me decipher and join those.