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
I have nothing to say to you,
I’m stronger on my own.
I don’t need anything from you.
I prefer to be alone.
Humans usually want something;
They, are rarely selfless,
And I do not have anything…
To give up, so it’s useless.
I can appreciate some things,
Provided by the pack,
But the bite of betrayal stings,
And I’ve learned from each attack,
That I can not depend on you,
And I’ve got my own back.
K. Aldaya, 2/16/22
Gif: From Black Widow; https://www.pinterest.com/pin/492862752980525627/
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*……………..
K. Aldaya, 1/31/21
Picture: Original Source Unknown; https://www.docbyte.com/blog/ocr-ai-digital-eyes-mailroom
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 