The Big Voice is silent.

Chatter behind the walls continues,

but the multitudes know nothing,

say nothing.

They just prattle on incessantly,

fearful that if they stop talking,

they’ll cease to exist.


I can’t say they’re wrong,

nor can I blame them,

because these days

all words come in the forms

of threats or questions.

Both are loaded,

both potentially deadly.

The balled fist,

the cocked hammer,

the nuclear deterrent;

don’t deter much anymore.


The slave chains shake off the rust.

The rattling cage,

too good for the heretic.

Cut off his head.

Burn him alive.

Show him the true price

of apostasy.

The cesspit fills

and the worms dig deeper.

The rats run wild,

breeding an gnawing.


No wonder there is such a call

for a hero,

or a cure,

or a savior.

Someone who can solve our ills

in such a way

that we can immediately denounce them

and take all the credit for ourselves.


That tiny voice,

old  Jiminy Cricket;

man, his days are done.

Drowned out in the mad cacophony.

Each ear straining to hear

and shouting louder

and louder

and louder.

Know-it-alls and narcissists,

they have it figured out

for the most part.

The crying of the widow

and the child

goes unnoticed.


The groupthink

darts its eyes around rapidly,

following the laser;




and ready to attack

when it stops.

A human Hellfire missile,


and ready to deploy.


Shut it off,

lock it out.

Out under the sky,

life still speaks coherently.

The Big Voice

has been speaking all along;

down by the river,

on the waves of the sea,

up on the mountain.

The Truth has dwelt here



We were never abandoned,

we just stopped listening.

We stuck our fingers in our ears

and shouted to the universe;


“I am special!”

“I matter!”

“I deserve to be happy!”


But the universe doesn’t care.

It never did.


The ones we shunned, shamed and stigmatized;

they were here the whole time,

quietly listening

to the words.


HG – 2018

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