There are threads of contradiction; alternative
Voices cry and whisper protesting they are not
Heard and go to their unquiet grave still saying
They have rights too and should be allowed -by
The poet written. Why won't they just shut up;
Bawling infants, my own crying babes?  Because
They must be, coddled, rocked and sung to sleep
And so I tell them with truth that they are loved
That their needs are heard; their voices understood
Are woven into the strands that of every song -are
The silence,  the golden silence that makes visible
The Voice of Love that shall be heard forever more