Poem: The Battlefield of the Heart

Sometimes the battlefield has no sounds

Just the cracking sounds of silence

As the spear of sorrow pierces the heart

Or the sound of tears slipping on the surface of life

It is the absence of sound that is far scarier than death itself

One by one, they hit the ground without even a sigh

Closing their eyes inside the casket of silence

We are left to whisper in harsh tones

About the carnage and the death toll

We grasp at the thread of hope

As it splinters inside our hearts

We are left baffled by the absence of sound

Inside the chamber of sorrow

Death has sneaked past the gates of our hearts

Into the deepest parts of our souls

We are now numb from the cold grip of death

Even as the names of the dead are called

And mortuaries are overflowing with human bodies

We can no longer cry

When can we cry? How should we cry?

When so many of our friends, families and colleagues are dying

Do we have to bury ourselves in sorrow?

Should we give a hint of our inner turmoil?

Should we allow our inner fears and hopelessness to run amok?

Or should we gather inside the tabernacle of the spirit?

These questions are found at the bottom of the abyss

But these questions are a sign of life

That is starting to sprout

It is the seed of hope

That has to push through the solid surface of hopelessness and uncertainty

And re-invest itself into the realm of life

Find your inner voice and listen to the words of hope

This is the beginning of a new chapter of life

It is not going to be easy

The germination process is a very painful experience

But the tree of life has to take root and sprawl across the face of uncertainty

©Kenneth Maswabi