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;
entranced,
enthralled,
enraged
and ready to attack
when it stops.
A human Hellfire missile,
armed
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
always.
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
