Unspoken Poem by Agatha Eliza

Unspoken words. Our secret, flowing river,
our thoughts - rapidly generating ripples
disturbind the shallow gloss of our world
contouring and exchanging the colours
projecting a splash of red on the effigy
of an unseen, topaz-like moon...
always nostalgic..always longing to return
to our mother's arms. The shade that shelters
us from a sun that burns away each memory.


And we are the ones who came a long way
remnants of those ancestors who healed
humanity with the herbs and blessed touch
of their agile hands..
or the ones whose hands were tainted with
the blood of their enemies and fellows,
or crushed the skulls of the defeat,
while grabbing the sword in a firm grip.
The midwives holding babies above their heads
and the wise witches burnt at the stake..
A thick veil of history was cast over us
Voiceless..rootless..boneless
roaming around, trying to find out who
we are. The bridge is burnt, but their
names will last as long as life itself lasts
written in this hidden, pocket sized book
where lays the very essence of the divine.