Silent Pain Screaming
like a hinge of an old door
rusty and lacking of midnight oil
I am left speechless
unable to decipher the writing on the wall
it wails accuses belittles
mocks groans teases and admonishes
from cracks unable to hold its grout
where a couple of stones
have become loose
it is not an easy patch up work
bricks crumble under
a pick axe blunt and far too short
to keep longing at bay
but I wonder whether
there is a secret treasure
a message
pot of gold
old newspaper
an old marble lost
hidden behind my partition
with the world myself
and the past present delusion
that everything must be okay
a church bell distracts from agony
the cemetery must be a cold place
some graves are overgrown by moss
others too immaculate
not to scream out in numb pain
I can’t stop sad music playing in my head
too many voices opinions and judgement
a discomforting concert of sorrow
and a gramophone record hurt
by a needle unable to move forward
the clock strikes again and once more
endless reverberations of throbbing exertion
vibrations of torment and misunderstandings
and yet I can do this and my last thought
before overdue slumber
is that there is energy in the Universe
and sometimes it passes through me
that is when the silent scream
becomes a loud whisper
and shrieks become music
24th November 2022
contest pick a title volume 33
sponsor Edvard Ibeh
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