Voices

 Calmness is not with them.

Yelling is their escape,

And the ones who are calm,

Are hiding in their shells of silence.

These shells are indestructible.

They are insecure to the world's torture.

 

Of the pangs of birth bring,

The cries of a woman are heard,

But they can not cease till bore subsides,

And sighing comes.

 

The anger of mans wrath,

Is followed by his tongue of language,

That ones ears can be have harm done.

The mans wrath is one to hide from.

 

The screams of a mother,

Watching her child be taken,

Are the screams of a thousand woman together,

Are the worries a mother could not endure.

 

The voices of many are carried on day in and day out

But the ones of deaf are the ones hiding in their shells,

And the ones of knowing no calmness,

Turn and run,

Hiding in shame for even raising their voices.

 

The mothers of bore

let relief from pain come,

And sigh.

The mothers' of a thousand cries

Rejoice at the return of their child,

For the voices of this world are many.

 

Recognize your own,

And speak for everything you hold dear.

Voices of many are carried day in and day out.