It was a day to unravel
the rhetoric
and stumble out to pave
the streets,
instead of exhaling words
that refused to compose themselves
and remained buried out of sight.
It was a day to remember.
And hoped to forget.
When the night came, we tripped the lights
and danced among the stars
that had lulled the moon to sleep.
But sleep eluded me.
Would words continue to elude me, as well?
When will I realize that we plow through the ashes
and the silence is more pronounced than the noise?
The silence waits no more.
Then words try to push their way in,
disturbing the peace.
Words taunt, like bullies, that refuse to sleep sometimes.
Underlying moral ambiguities
float in the subconscious,
anxious,
until they are born
and someone is there
to unravel the rhetoric.
© Connie Song 2022. All Rights Reserved.
