PRIMAL SILENCE
My silence screams in a crowded room
Into faces weaved on a pretender's
loom
A room where only pretty lies are spoken
Where the past in buried, the ground unbroken
My silence sticks in my throat, unmelting
The wafer thin and
brittle, choking
"This is my body, which will be given up for you"
Do this in memory of me
The innocent child
I used to be
© 2003 Sara Michele O'Sullivan.
All rights reserved.
