Raise your shield high

Silence has a weight

Texture

A rock worn smooth

By time

A delicacy as raw silk

Sliding over my rough, dark hands

Inside,

The screams – outrage, pain disguised

As signals of virtue

I stand askance

My path takes me through

These places

Once walled gardens of enthused discourse

Now the flowers drip blood

I hold my own counsel

Keep making my art

As though casting a suit of armour

Against the fragile, vicious beasts

Within

Without

My silence is my shield

And I raise it high

I raise it high

 

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