Rifts

Shh

Shh🔷

A language that everyone speaks
but one that we are not able to hear.

A place where contemplation and serenity meet.
The sound of your own voice echoes between your ears.

A humbling rush of reality erupts into a nosebleed.
An infinite amount of words funnelled into a single tear.

Friends offer you their take on your unidentified needs,
probing and waiting for the old you to reappear.

They dish out advice but never practise what they preach,
expecting you to believe their advice is just as sincere.

They interrupt your transcendence into inner peace
by ushering you to verbalise the contents of your prayers.

The people of this earth cannot handle unscheduled retreats.
They will not swim with the current if the water is not clear.

As a society they pry and push until you are on your knees.
Before you know it,
all your secrets are bellowed out by idle auctioneers.

Initiating a bidding war amongst your supportive peers,
who incessantly screech out

"Don't you think it is time you faced your fears?"

Lips clap together, beautifully bounded.
They say you will feel better
once your woes have been accounted.

Tongues constrained by a row of teeth.
Your blubbering jaw struggles
to describe the portrait underneath.

Premeditated deflective thoughts become mobilised.
Shoulders propped in prep for the torrid of seeping eyes.

In this case one is company and two is a crowd.
The audience encourages you to sing your sad song out loud.

But you censor your soul to coincide with their speculations,
allowing them to think they had a part to play in your restoration.

You smile and be the version they know you as.
This preferred version of you is almost never sad.

You remain inside the realms of their selective vision.

You cower, confess, and confirm their suspicions.

You strum your violin.

You wail until the pressure lightens.

You accept their self gratifying guidance.

You entertain them to the point all that is left
is a pure,

placid, and putrid

silence.