Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2020
I come from this place,
where the hills roll & sway,
a serene valley that speaks
an unheard wisdom.

I listen for these words,
but hear nothing.

My ears, dulled by the ignorance
of my ancestral generations.

I weep that I cannot hear her sweet voice,
no warmth to be found.

I am a hostage of the machine.
Written by
Dakota Jones Duggar
Please log in to view and add comments on poems