The Inherited Silence

By Abdul Aleem Jaseer

By the dying embers of the hearth,

In eternal silence, I softly searched,

for the kid who once laughed and shone in color,

in the walls of this now grey abode.

A kid who dreamed, like none else,

to explore this realm, by himself.

A bird who desperately wanted to escape,

from the home that was his colorful cage.

So, he grew wings, of his own,

ones that could soar the heavens alone,

yet he failed, as he tried,

as there was no such thing, as the sky.

Blinded by this sudden perception,

of being ejected, from this delusion,

he then looked to the walls, that held his life,

then tried to break free, get rid of his strife.

He struck the wall 'til he bled,

hope leaking from the wounds he fed,

yet as he stared, with a longing gaze,

he could do nothing, chances forever fazed.

Then as he grew, out of his wall,

it crumbled around him, what was once so tall,

then formed into shackles, ones that led,

to a path formerly trodden by those similarly bred.

The world lost its colors.

Monotonous whispers overcast.

He marched the road his blood once paved,

feeling the never seen shadows of his past.

The child within him was dead,

as was his joy, love, life.

He went on, and on he went,

To his wonderland, already dead.

A false victory, never his,

he was freed from his bounds at last.

Yet as he stood, he found,

his legs unable to walk.

For he had never learnt how to,

and had grown too weak to ever do.

So, as he gave up on his dreams,

he sat in the crib of his former cage.

And asked again, one more time,

in that innocent, infant mime,

Father, Mother, on the wall,

why was I the child to bear it all?

By Abdul Aleem Jaseer