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A Voice in Protest
By Cherbo Geeplay
Have you heard of a voice quiet like
the dead of night, rising steadily like
ocean currents above the hills of
repression, louder from its slumber
because the thorns could not stop
pricking the soft folds that cover
the bones of the soul, showing
that man’s patience wears thin
like silk no matter how virtuous
he may drink from the fountain
of courage. His faith leaning on
the destiny of his hopes, fighting
to be free from the horrendous
and calamitous wreck that tyranny
imposed.Funny how some people
talk about freedom only when it
suits the comfort of their hubris.
Sorry, I too want to breathe
the fresh air outside too
flowing from the Atlantic
ocean, oh it feels so good.
Long live the voice that never kept
quiet, that rose in protest
over some injustice
daring to shackle
the chords of her
vocals over the
shogunate of tyranny,
and so a voice must
speak when no one cares
and rise over the hills.
Copyright ©? 2021, In Parentheses Literary
Copyright ©
Cherbo Geeplay
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