Voiceless Voices Poem by venessa ambrose

The are prisoners of Mr unknown,
Buried for a cause not there own,
Some went to the market,
While a few sat en mass,
The little ones danced,
And prayed to their fairies,
I watched the youth,
The hope of ruins,
Speak and show forth their new damask.
But in the shadows,
Lies an aged looker,
He saw the world,
From his deep eyes,
Owl like and eagle alike,
Yet not a word was said about him,
He was but an artist dream,
A portrait hidden by wall,
An invisible story,
Heard by only the mind,
A mind keen to listen,
In his hands I saw tragedy,
Deep uncertainty filled his eyes,
His torso held weapons,
An army of his mind,
His wobbly legs stood for the future.
His feeble lips were in motion,
Singing a voiceless lullaby,
To the child who cared,
No one cared,
He was just a living portrait.