We use it all the time: hard
But only they know what it means
The electricity in your veins
The foot that twitches
The pounding in your head
Bang-bang-bang
Sending a message
Maybe I hurt
But the source cannot be found
And the source hardly even matters
There’s a bicycle that makes a noise
Clank-clank-clank
The wheels turn, the rider flies smoothly on
And yet.
The multitude of voices
Singing praises, sending prayers
Attempting aid with their minds
But it sounds more like a
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh
A sea of love that never reaches the dry, awaiting sands
What good can the vibrations of a larynx do
When the grounds of the earth are shaking
When the ants have stopped marching
When at last the only sound is silence.
--Amy Kristen
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