The whimper of a whisper reached
the world,
Eventually distress was
known, but still forgotten.
Sometimes, that is all we
hear in our own silence,
We do not absorb the
message we think we read.
The silent village without
a means of world volume,
Girls cast aside by enduring
threat and suppression.
The imposition of casual opportunity
upon innocence,
Actions of vile wickedness
defiling the sanctity of life.
The common horror heard in
the murmur of a silence,
A happening lost for
exposition within its captive state.
As facile as the
tightening nooses in the mango grove,
Onlookers collect in a common
expectation and ritual.
Respect falters as robes
twitch in the evening breeze,
The only voice hangs in
the silent spectacle of death itself.
©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 04/06/2014
Associated with the
Prompt at Poets United: Mid-Week Motif: ‘Public Protest.’..
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/31/india-gang-rape-katra-sadatgunj-fathyer-speaks
Oh this is poignant and powerful Eileen. Sometimes we do not hear the faint cries of those in need do we? Either through external "noise" or our own internal noise. Very thought-provoking...
ReplyDeleteProtests like this poem serve to amplify "the whimper of a whisper" and "the only voice." I numb to horror, I un-numb to absorb and then write instead of numbing, then numb, etc. This is a powerful poem.
ReplyDeleteOh this is powerful and poignant and at once deep and gripping with such conscientious involvement; with a mind so receptive and fully absorbing the despicable message, breaking the incarcerating silence. The last four lines touched me so deep....Thank you Eileen.
ReplyDeleteEventually distress was known, but still forgotten.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, that is all we hear in our own silence,
This deserves repeating and being shown widely.
Well, you probably know better than most.
Such raw emotions so eloquently expressed..we do seem to turn a blind eye/ear to real distress..hopefully the capacity to protest will never be lost even if their whispers may be
ReplyDeletePowerful, Eileen, especially how the whimper reaches us for a five minute sound-byte then other topics move it to the background and we forget........the nightmare you refer to in your link at the end is still living in the hearts of those involved. Well done.
ReplyDeleteAnd why does our modern age with on the hour coverage fail to speak of this whimper and the lives struggling to be heard?
ReplyDeleteA somber beauty in this poem.
Your poem hit me with a great sadness
ReplyDeleteVery powerful poem
Best wishes, always.
Very touching.
ReplyDeleteEileen, so many tragedies in every day, it is extremely sad, and you captured it all perfectly. That line-- As facile as the tightening nooses in the mango grove, was really powerful
ReplyDelete