And who has won this home:

To have the tears flow down the cheeks

Yet carefully cried so not to

Shake the bed,

And never made a sound?

 

And who has earned this prize:

To hear the love words pouring out

Yet not one common meaning found

Amid the flood,

And never made a sound?

 

And who has got this place?

To know those birthed and treasured

Cannot understand the joy or gift nor

Guess what was,

And never made a sound?

 

Be not deceived or proud:

Our by-gone sisters, long ahead of us,

Have mastered all the arts

Of hurt and pain and loneliness.

And never made a sound.

 

 

February 2006