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Poem

When you turn your head to time
Do you listen to whispers on a vine? 
Sounds that may mean no
Voices that tell you yes
A whistle when it is time to go

What are these whispers on a vine? 
Are they strangers passing by? 
Are you too afraid to ask them why? 
Noises too noisy to hear
Your silence and quiet 
Replaced by violence and riot

Who is it that whispers on a vine? 
Your parents, brothers and sisters? 
Friends, well wishers and keepers? 
What do they whisper? 
To do things, to loose things, to make things
Whispers that tell you
Of winning, defeating, choosing and loosing
How will you know when you are not listening? 

Whatever the whisper whatever the vine
The effort to listen is neither yours nor mine
We who are walking, no, we who are stalking
Following behind the whispers found on a vine
We think we see where we go
We think we see where we’ve been
What is it to listen if we only have eyes? 
How without hearing will we determine the lies? 

Will you heed a whisper on a vine? 
You may from a lover who shares your mind
But heed only whispers that you heed with your heart
It takes more than vision and it takes more than wishin
To think only of hearing will hardly afford a start
You require firm standing and hands at the ready
With whispers you must grasp and hold them quite steady
Finally you’ve caught one and now may ask it: 

“oh whisper, that comes and goes, hold one moment, 
for I seek answers no one yet knows. If you grant me this favor
I may still yet reward you. The single request I pray you, 
whisper your whisper just a bit louder? ”

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