by ABIGAIL M. ADRIATICO
I will never be accustomed to the silence
in my halls now bathed in darkness,
for all that is left in my hallowed ground
once graced by hope and harmony
are the timid footsteps of those that come and go,
bearing nothing but unease and uncertainty.
From the distressed faces that I see
and troubled hearts that they bear,
it comes without question–
fear is all that echoes within.
Yet, in this sea of dread and despair
is a tide that refuses to die down.
They march against the stillness,
armed with words that beg to break through
the restraints forced onto their throats.
With their efforts to try and let the truth prevail,
the lingering danger of eternal silence
continues to put out the spark
of the hope they hold in their hands.
Although I have no tears that can fall
and no heart that can beat,
still I pray to the heavens for their sake.
May their hearts continue to burn
in anger and rage for the battered land
whose blood and tears cover the silenced plains.
May they allow their eyes to see through the lies
and let Themis’ fury set it all ablaze.
While they stand with their screaming hearts
in the midst of the flames–
the sole beacon of light in these darkened halls,
I shall hope that
never again will they let the fire die. F