In this torturous silence
That has lasted weeks
And burnt the night down to ashes,
I could hear my heart beat.
Like tiny screams underwater,
Water rushing into the lungs.
I could hear my blood
Walking in my veins
Punching the walls,
Tearing them through
The order of the heart
And pour out everywhere
They could run in.
Outside I lay so still and quiet
My mother should be scared
Of me losing my voice
But she isn't.
I stopped talking at home
Long back,
When I would hear the shouts,
The blows to the doors.
I feel my screams
During my growing years
Consumed the needs for words.
So I lay and this silence
Isn't odd
So no one is afraid for me
But I am.
How else do you
Know a forest is burning
If you don't see the fire.
How else would you
Know the ocean flooding the shore
Unless you feel the waves.
But you don't.
For you are in your buildings,
Behind closed doors,
You don't know when it pours
Unless you walk out in the street.
You don't know the storms,
The tremors that could bring you down,
But in your barricaded homes
You don't.
So tell me how will anyone
Know I am dying
When they don't even see me here?
They don't.
But I can feel
The waves,
The rain,
The heat,
The water I am swallowing.
Because I am all of these
And no one anymore
Can see.
Don't worry you are not the block,
I am the one blocked.
In the silences that preceded
the on going one,
I used to stutter.
I ignored those as irrelevant mumbles
But these are the sentences
That in those stuttered words
were broke.
This block helped me decipher and join those.
