Always listen

Always listen

To the unquiet.

It might lie dormant,

Hidden in a corner,

Waiting for the moment.

Biding its time

Like a child,

Who eats like a bird

And is sent to their room,

To sit on their own

For the afternoon.

No television,

Without revision

Of their behaviour.

No answering back

When under attack.

But still get punished,

As silence is rubbished,

And head, hung low in shame,

Take the blame

For something

Called dumb insolence.

There is no guilt,

Or innocence.

No right or wrong

In a silent song.

Little voices

Should be seen

And not heard.

Unless called upon,

Mum’s the word.

But silence

Makes you wonder.

It can be as loud

As thunder.

And when it breaks

Whole worlds are torn apart,

Breaking the strongest heart.

It rips clean through

The fabric of our lives.

With words

As sharp as

Hunting knives.

And too late

To be heard

The meaning of words

Can be lost,

And to our cost,

All we hear

Is the echo of fear,

That fills the space,

The loss of face,

Between silence

And unquiet.