To Marcy Howard
In the middle of the night,
Awakened from a dream,
The body drenched with sweat,
My voice is hoarse from unheard screams,
The darkness proves the tortured heart,
Has skeletons that it bears,
And as the darkness hides the pain,
It holds the screams that no one hears.
Pain and loss become prison bars,
As a heart slowly turns to stone,
Anticipating the sentence imposed,
To forever be alone,
Inside the screams that darkness holds,
Lives a soul now ripped in two,
And in the questions daily posed,
The only answer is you.
While isolation overwhelms,
Though surrounded no one can see,
For if the screams remain unheard,
What might tomorrow be,
Though happy for the things we found,
Is this silence now the cost,
And now that one half is gone,
Does it mean the other half’s the cost.
The dreams I know aren’t voiced out loud,
Yet their volume grows and grows,
And as the mind makes them deafening,
The heart insures that no one knows,
Yet hope resides in just one name,
But that hope possesses no sound,
As just the whisper of her voice,
Would change this silence found.