The Listener

The Listener.

She stands in the chaos,
battered, beat and bruised.
No room for pathos,
at that she’s left bemused.

Encircled by those in pain,
she tries to bring them light.
Only seeking one to blame,
they cast her into night.

Leave her in the shadow-
the jungle of her mind.
Yet when their hearts are hollow,
it’s her they go to find.

These horrified, these desperate,
Take away her pride.
The ignorant and the desolate,
They will not be denied.

For them, her heart bleeds,
she shoulders their aches,
and attends their needs.
These are her mistakes:

Branches whip her face,
Shadows, strangle.
Her personal disgrace,
hurt from every angle.

Swallowing her suffering,
Taking in their own.
Underneath she’s suffocating,
For their sins, she will atone.

They push her down,
beneath black waves,
watch her drown,
you self-serving slaves.

Judge her now,
water fills her lungs,
her patience will allow,
her strength to stay unsung.

See the bags beneath her eyes,
the silent tears she never cried.
eradicate for her your lies,
release her- let her run and hide.

This is what you ought to do;
you maimed and weak.
Alas, I fear that it is true,
you’d rather die than let her speak.

Her tattered clothes, her filthy hair,
swirl around her drowning frame.
Watch, as her dead eyes stare;
for each of you is to blame.