Deaf to the oppressed.

Are you listening? A lonely voice

echoes off the cliffs of fixed ears

that will only hear if its tune fits.

They called over and over, hoping

in vain for the murmuring of many

distant voices that crowded around,

to tune out nuisance noise; to make 

a dent in the deepening declivity

of intentions over obsessions, 

which crowd out the loudest of

SOS’s and turns them into the

long ago cries that went nowhere.


A shoulder was tapped, and eyes

were turned, to see past the person

and used machinations to avoid

attentions, and where solidly their  

intention was to shield their eyes, and 

close their minds from changing.

Forcing the silenced to grieve. Their 

loss of a voice voiding their existence.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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