Silent No More

Looking back DvoraFreedman

Photo: Dvora Freedman

 

In the restless nights

They walked

Silent in the desert

Stalked

While the prowlers

Rose to halt

And turn hope

To anguished fault.

But we’ll silent be

No more

For those who had been harmed

Before.

And we will raise our voice

To show

That cruelty we will not

Let grow.

 

 

For dVerse Poets: Sounds of Silence

 

Freedom’s Curfew

liberty bell PA Photo by mbell1975 on flickr

Photo: mbell1975 on flickr

 

As a bell tolls

Come dark,

May its sound be a reminder

Of the toll

Exacted from those whose steps

Are hidden,

Whose freedoms are

Forsaken,

And whose voices

Are silenced,

For no fault

But being

Born

Into hardship

And fleeing

Danger zones.

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for July 28, 2018:

Curfew

This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”

Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

Empty

(Dedicated with love to the children who survived, and to those who couldn’t.)

Luchenza Orphanage by photocillin on Flickr

Orphanage by photocillin on Flickr

 

There were no toys. There were no hugs.

There were no hands to pat wet eyes.

There were no smiles. There were no songs.

There were no calming lullabies.

There were long nights. There were cold days.

There were no comforts when one cried.

There was just time.

Immense.

Indefinite.

There was just fear.

Impervious.

Infectious.

There were blank stares.

A deafening silence.

There were human metronomes

Rocking in desperate absence.

 

There were no words.

There still aren’t any.

Just threads of heart

To weave the splintered

Into many.

 

 

 

 

For The Daily Post