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Behind, Between, Beyond
September 2, 2014
I can't hear the whispers
Nor the truths shouted
At the top of deflated lungs.
I can only feel the lies
Hidden between lines
Of worry.
Slowly, the pressure builds
Into something that is
Uncontrollable,
Unattainable,
Past the point of passive ire,
The truth needs to come out.
There is a reason shadows run from the light.
Yet I find comfort in the sorrow,
In the darkness everyone hides,
In the cries of silence,
In the shared struggles.
I go unto the day, longing for the night.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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A poem inspired by the night, written during the sunset.