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When Silence Speaks
Inelegant, the silence wakes and yawns,
pretending not to notice or to care;
while symphonies of chaos greet the dawn
and ashes of our Banner fill the air.
The few, with vacant visage cry the creeds
~march on with signs remastered from the old
in broths of propaganda where it breeds,
the willingly disposed in boredom's fold.
Onlookers pause and gasp in rapt surprise;
unruly hordes deface the hallowed halls,
like "Kristallnacht" they scare what they despise,
too late for recompense when conscience calls
or quell fallacious lectures as they wreak...
dumbfounded when the fruits of silence speaks.
Copyright ©
Craig Cornish
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