Valsa George - Silence that Speaks

Silent move the meek docile lambs,
Behind the shepherd to be huddled inside.
Food and shelter is all they need,
And abide to be sheared with no trace of dissent.

Silent are the beasts that trot along,
Miles on end through rugged roads,
Blissfully ignorant of what awaits,
They stagger lamely to the slaughter house.

Mournful is the silence of the slaves,
Flogged and beaten to bear the yoke,
Stifled is their cry within the throats,
Never once let out to break the calm around.

Heart rending is the silence of the dumb,
Trying in vain to utter fleeting thoughts,
Through signs and gestures crude to view,
Lisping and blabbering in broken sounds.

Fierce is the silence that lingers on,
The ones subdued under stark threat of life,
Gagged and tied unable to moan or move,
While looted of all that is hoarded in life.

Woeful is the silence that befalls,
On the man who watches and pass unmindful,
An innocent, brutally hunted down,
Bathed in blood and pleading to be saved.

Cruel turns the silence of the one,
Who neither accedes nor dissents,
The anguished plea of the devout lover,
To bind the hearts and share the life.

Venerable is the silence of the monk,
Who withdraws into his cloistered cell,
To commune with the Benign Power within,
In a language not audible to anyone around.

Silence turns golden for the sober man,
Who remains sedate when taunted or abused,
And shuts his mouth with great restraint,
To prevent a brawl from brewing up.

Silent lies the dead, beneath the sod,
Actors who once rocked the stage,
They exited out from this turbulent world,
To be shrouded within the dark crevices still.

Graver is the silence of those alive,
Who stay cocooned within their impenetrable self,
Never responding to Time’s clarion call,
To wake up and rout the belligerent troupes around.

Valsa George

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