Silent Sounds of Sorrow

In the morn when balmy sunlight bathes the sky
In the noon when any hunger beats the fast’s dye
In the night when darkness belittles my little eyes
Only silent sounds of sorrow are all I hear:
unmelodious cacophonies of cries and wails;
the clamour for consciousness rises —

in the so worldly streets of protest
in the dingy living rooms for resistance
in everywhere my averse ears turn to;
And noises there are, and more noises
even amidst the silence of midnight

and even across the town of the dead
and even amongst the light, the noises so dark
and even in happiness the noises so wretched;
and even if no one is listening.

But even in this despair I do see some hope
So I walk alone silently,
Time ignored rudely.

When we go together
I hear it muted:

The silent sounds of sorrow.