The Language of Silence

[bug]

I have lost my words.
I now speak a language of silence,
And I wonder if you understand.

Oh, how I await the day when the page will turn,
When my name will fade away!
(As though that might cover my mistakes,
Of which there are many.)

I was not taught to speak,
Nor walk and smile and shake a hand.
I have had to find my own way,
Walking one path after another
And waiting to stumble upon the Truth.

But every wrong turn pains my soul,
Like briars tearing at the skin.
It is so painful to exist imperfectly.
It would be better not to exist at all.

Yet I speak again,
Driven into existence by compulsion,
A need to find reason,
The period at the end of a long rambling sentence.

I have lived amidst violence and shame.
I have borne the blows.
I have seen that which should not be seen,
Heard what should not be heard.
And I carry it around inside me still,
Nestled in a velvet-lined case
(So carefully and finely made).

I am loathe to give it up.
It was a gift to me.
It is all I have.

I know there are many who say differently,
And they tire of me when I don’t agree.
Charity seeketh not her own,
But you do.

(Would you abandon me so quickly if you understood
My fear of Hope?
Or if I were a frail and lovely thing,
Bowing my face to the dirt
Yet brandishing humility like a weapon?
Perhaps if I were more like you?)

But I am merciless.
I have seen the hidden blades of the victims,
The fragile faery folk with their daggers of silver.
You can sing their praises
And I will hide my scars.
I will not speak out
Nor ask you to reconsider.

Oh how you praised when I spoke your words,
A parrot desperately happy to please.
But I am pierced to my core.
Your words are not the truth.
I came seeking something I have not found,
And so I take my shuffling steps along the way.

I leave not for anger
Nor desperation,
But for Love.

The tree is slowly growing,
Fresh tender bark covering ancient wounds,
Yet leaving scars for all to see.
Poor ugly thing.

You have made mistakes
And so have I.
I have wounded
And been wounded in return.
And I feel compelled to scream it from the mountain tops
(A paltry explanation)
Hoping that I might yet be understood.

And yet I know you won’t.
You won’t understand.
For my Truth speaks a language of silence
That only few can hear.

[amalivo6]

((((((((((bug))))))))))))))

this spe,

this speaks valumes to me every word

[bug]

Thank you Amalivo. Thank you for reading my words and replying.

Much love,
bug

[Dee88]

Bug, your writing is impressive. It has so much truth to it. I think I speak your language.
Dee88

[bug]

Dee,
I *LOVE* that. I love that feeling when you read someone's words and you feel like you speak the same language! Thank you for that.

Much love,
bug

[GrowingTree]

wow