584. Mute

There was once, long ago, a girl who did not speak.

The other villagers around, said she was a freak.

They said she used to speak quite well,

Then one day was asked, and could not tell,

The answer to a simple quandary.

She moved her mouth, though no sound seemed to break free.

One day, a village man spied her walking away,

Out into the woods,…and followed through the foggy gray,

To a secluded forest house.

She entered as he snuck like a mouse,…

To the window,…and heard voices inside.

She was speaking!…which injured his village pride.

“How manipulative! Pretending not to speak!”

“Not speaking with us!…Fraudulently quiet and meek!”

He thought about telling everyone straight away,

But decided it was best to confront her that day.

So when she returned late that night,

He approached her by blazing torchlight.

“I heard you speaking well in the forest”,

“Why don’t you give your playacting a good rest!”

She looked down tensely and then found a stick and wrote,…

In the dirt, the clearly etched words: “Don’t I get a vote?”

“‘Fore you judged, why’d you not ask me?”

“Why I can’t speak to you all,…and flee,…”

“Into the forest,…where I met a friend”,…

“In whose safety, my spare time I would soon spend?”

“Speak! What are you so afraid of?”, he asked fiercely.

“I fear the loss of soul and self”, she wrote solemnly.

“I do not understand”, he yelled, “Just use your voice!”

“Why do you feign as if there is no actual choice?

She wrote out: “Do we choose to feel?”…

“For if so, tell me how not to feel.

For, no, I do not want to feel this way,

And wish I could go back to a former day,

When I felt I was secure to feel, and to be…

Before I fell down hard, and no one ever caught me.

Screams, when unheard, hurt fatally,

And take away the voices’ ability,…

To react…to actuate…to explain,…

And deep within the throat all that’s left is pain.

I fiercely want to speak, but my voice turns to stone,

And leaves me in the silence,…bitterly all alone.”

The man stormed off abruptly in rage and disgust,

‘Til he saw the boy from the forest kicking up dust,…

Nearby,…”I saw it all”, he said.

The man spoke to the stranger ahead:

“You should leave or you will wind up dead”.

“I’ll leave”, the boy replied, “…first, I must speak”.

“If you wish to be angry then you should seek,…

The voice of ev’ry villager who stayed silent,…

While injustice was done:…turned away and were absent.

She tried to tell all the elders,…

But they did not hold her voice as hers.

No one believed,…they stood idly by,

As she was rejected for being hurt by,…

The former chief of the tribe,…many years ago.

She tried to say aloud, but no one wanted to know.

If you wish to seek answers, then you should be sure,

To inquire for them, wherever they may occur.”

The boy slinked back,…out of the light,…

Into the forest, and out of sight.

The next morning, the girls’ body was found,

In the crystal lake nearby, where she had drowned.

The unheard silence had swallowed her up for good,

And the villagers,…they never truly understood,…

That silence speaks when words can not,…

And when understanding is not sought,…

The truth,…it does not go away,…

Someone will know….

….Someone will pay.

K. Aldaya, 6/15/22

Picture: By Saksham Gangwar on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/Pv7LzcSVsNg

536. The Program

The mind is a prison,

And it’s always the same.

Nowhere to go to,

And an air of shame,

Floats right on through;

While the doors remain locked,

And darkness protrudes,

‘Til life only exists,

In despondent attitudes,…

And the outside exits.

No one will save us.

This is a life sentence,

Where no matter how you try,

You won’t receive penance,

At least not ’til you die.

A prisoner to the end,

There is no refuge in or out.

It’s either solitude and darkness,

Or the freedom of chaos and self-doubt;

For a day,..an hour,…maybe less.

The mind is a prison,

And it’s always been this way,

And the outside world, the only place to get away.

……………..*Running a prisoner trace*……………..

  1. She’s locked away…
  2. She’s locked away…
  3. She’s locked away…
  4. She’s locked away…
  5. She’s out today…
  6. She’s locked away…
  7. She’s locked away…
  8. She’s locked away…
  9. She’s out today…
  10. She’s locked away…
  11. She’s locked away…
  12. She’s locked away…
  13. She’s locked away…
  14. She’s lost her way…
  15. She’s locked away…
  16. She’s locked away…
  17. She’s locked away……………..

K. Aldaya, 1/31/21

Picture: Original Source Unknown; https://www.docbyte.com/blog/ocr-ai-digital-eyes-mailroom

500. The Useless

No one cares if you live in darkness,

Because they get to live in the light;

And sometimes I’m bitter, and it hurts my eyes,

To be hidden in misunderstandings and lies.

And sometimes I wish I could find and steal,

A little light to know how they all must feel;

So when it shines in their eyes they will know,

I’ve escaped their ignorance and ego.

For a moment, I hope they get a glimpse of the pain,

Of groping through life with the label “insane”.

Squinting, erratic, and lost.

Tell me society: What is the cost?

Is it so hard to turn on a light?

To invite truth, and do what is right?

Instead, they all go ’bout their day,

And blame the blinded for not finding their way.

For no one cares if you live in darkness,

‘Cause they get to live in the light.

Maybe one day it will all get too bright…

For them to face themselves, and address,

The loss and suffering, so useless…

…so useless….so useless….

K. Aldaya, 12/19/19

Picture: By Javier Garcia on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/J3sivicMj8Y

499. Forsaken

Why do they let the children cry?

They laugh and ignore,

Then say goodbye…

As if they are not there.

Why do they leave the children be?

They do not perceive,

Though they may see;

And harshly turn away.

Why do they let the children cry?

And leave them inside,

To wonder why,

The whole world left them there…

To die.

K. Aldaya, 12/13/19

Picture: Art by Banksy and Photographed by Karim Manjra on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/6iM5GOht664

487. Unwanted

She doesn’t want us here.

She parts the leaves and walks on through,

I wish I could walk in the warm breeze too.

She doesn’t want us here.

She faces the sun to burn sight…

Repeating: She’s,”…glad to live in the light”.

She doesn’t want us here.

She pretends that ghosts are not real,

‘Cause she doesn’t want to see, hear, or feel…

Herself…

She doesn’t want her here.

K. Aldaya, 8/24/19

Picture: By: Nine Kopfer on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/tJC6I9S3nBw