Silence

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The minute, duly observed
in the honour of the dead.
The words that rolled each night
to the other side of the bed.

What returns to haunt
when a door is brutally closed.
That mark on her body
of a will that is often forced.

The opportunity to listen
so others can get to speak.
The sound of apathy,
also the strength in the weak.

5 thoughts on “Silence

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