There are times my words stop flowing, when they seize and resist any release. And then it hurts so bad I am forced to cut deep into my skin and let the pain flow in fragments, in heaves, in a silent river of tears. I cry in prose, I pray in fire.
This is my whispered scream.
I am a stranger in familiar land
A tree grown in desert sand
I am wavering and wandering, holding on to a dream
I am shrinking, I am weeping, undone at the seams
This ever-shifting ground will not give
crawls back into hiding
clutching hope’s labored breaths
blood and bones absolving all the sins and senseless deaths
Bright red lives moving on
keep going with the flow
choice is but an empty word
with no place left to go
And I stand in wooded slopes
the bodies that were left behind
when my voice stuck deep in my throat
cut down by someone’s wrenching belief
some broken-record history
And I remain silent
quiet as a corpse
tell me, please
I beg you
can you not still hear my screams?