Poem: Talk

After the rain of our imagination the leaves vanish

in the moonless darkness, away from sight, they whisper

can't count the nights spent decoding the stream of colours

sweeping inside my own skin, this life paints us

every possible shade and tone

to see the picture you have to listen beyond the silence

it's a shelter to let these written words speak for themselves

for we too often get lost in speech

we say less than we mean to say

and hope somebody received the message through

courage fails us or do words leave us?

we talk, yet who is still listening?

it's like speech has become a way

for us to admire our own voices

we talk and talk, yet we change nothing

our promises aren't followed by deeds

those who listened have become weary

anticipating the moment when we will

have nothing more to say

we like to argue about right and wrong

                justice and equality

but it seems too difficult to choose the harder right

are our real faces hiding behind the clutter

of old ideas, wishes, hopes and mistakes

have they nailed us to the ground

and we lay there comfortably

because we've given up on how it could be?

seasons and years give us opportunities

to improve and to change

and don't stand for less

sit down to talk and listen

about everything and nothing at all

dive deep inside

and bring back the real you -

and be raw.

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