garden 319

She wore the faces of the many before her,

and spoke using their stolen breaths.

Her grandmother’s, mother’s voice had found its way back to life

after being suppressed for generations.

Surfacing finally, after having been drowned out.

Each word she never said, now played in silent rounds within her great-granddaughter’s spirit sense.

Words running deeper and deeper still

until they had carved out their meanings into echoing depths

where bated breaths movedΒ resonating chords to chime and rise into a soul-filled hum of acknowledgement.

A resolute nod of the head.

And a hand to the heart where the ringing chord had been firmly struck, and played its bell toll.

So marking in time the moment when the point had come clear.

Understanding how the plight of so many had latched itself to her roots.


20 thoughts on “Voices

  1. I get it. I disappear for a couple of days and my punishment is the jealousy week, right? First Melanie, now you, Devan. But, jokes aside, the topic you chose here haunts me regularly. I really like when your works pinch the numb part of my brain. OK, great, now I’m a masochist πŸ˜€

  2. You are always so kind! I’m not sure that I know Melanie’s blog, or maybe I do and just don’t know her on a first name basis. Please send me a link if you get a chance so that I can read her work. Thanks again for stopping by. Your comments make me smile. πŸ™‚

  3. Thanks! We went to a botanical garden outside of Philly. It was such a beautiful place. We were there for hours and didn’t even get to see the whole garden.

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