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

517. Empty Graves Without Name

mask_bw_monochrome_124766_3840x2400

There is a tall castle,

It looks lovely from the top.

The tower is inviting,

So passersby often go up;

To see the sea of green,

And to the fae, raise bounteous cup.

However, this castle,

Is a most sprawling domain,

With levels and rooms galore;

Though no one wanders without aim,

As each window and door,

Is locked with keys of their own name.

And each key rests below,

In the haunted dungeon halls,

Where the screams of yesterdays,

Still echo through the walls themselves;

And the terrors from those days,

Remain undusted on its’ shelves.

Thence, who would travel forth,

To seek out the truths within?

When blue skies are so pleasant;

And nature moves in expansion,

Adorning the present….

Burying tales without description.

Empty graves, without name.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/20

Picture: Originally by Evan Mitchell on Flickr;
https://wallpaperscraft.com/download/mask_bw_monochrome_124766/3840×2400

 

 

495. Burnt Bridge

It’s said you should say nothing,

If there’s nothing nice to say.

Yet I would rather hear the truth,

Than watch you walk away.

If only you would say something,

And let sparks hit the air.

The fire may burn far too bright,

Though at least I’d feel you care…

To try… to fight… to live on…,

For our relationship to survive,

The winters of our lifetimes;

To feel, and hope, and strive.

I may not be what you wish I was,

And it’s easy to feel let down,

When we forget it’s not just about us;

Faced with each confronting smile and frown.

I wonder if someday you’ll stop,

And think of way back when…

Back to when we were still good friends.

Will you wonder what could have been?

It’s said you should say nothing,

If there’s nothing nice to say.

Yet I would rather have heard the truth,

Than to have watched you calmly walk away.

K. Aldaya, 10/7/19

Picture: By Nico E. on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/AAbjUJsgjvE