THE PAUCITY OF SILENCE

by Ron R. Lacson

Yell, they do

Hate, they feel

So free to say what their souls embrace

Anchored on the liberty to hide one's face

Write, yes that too

Wound, it won’t heal

So loud, so blunt, so rude and now it hurts

No end in sight, words unceasingly march

Love, it seems gone

Care, it isn’t there

People exchanging thoughts that break spirits

Anchored on nothing but on madness that’s rich

Hope, it’s for everyone

Faith, it’s there somewhere

The paucity of silence pursues; not our wish

Only remembering the quietude and peace