Whisperings

 

Once in fear, mute almost.

My whisperings a quiet response,

when faced with wrath and fierce damnation.

Desperate sounds, half spoken. 

 

Almost voiceless, I scramble to make sound.

Not listened to, just not heard.

Stabbed through the heart again.

Once more, not recognised.

 

Our conversations disconnect,

the words, perhaps lack meaning.

Maybe out of tune, or alien now.

A language no more shared.

 

Though minimal of phrase,

at least in need of some response.

A frisson of voices would suffice,

but only absence flickers in reply.

 

My thoughts, obscured, scream clear

but trapped inside and barely heard.

Across the dark landscape,

scattered Whisperings trace memories 

with no escape.

 

 

 

 

Carolyn Savidge 2022