 | ||||||
| "Mute to Our Own Desires (hushed stories and sincere promises)", | Shawna Cross |
They say I am dumb,
That I articulate no sound
Except for the occasional grunt.
Mute!, they call me in scorn and fear.
But I have a voice, oh, so profound,
That only the more acute can hear.
They think I am dumb,
That my noises make no sense.
Ah, their dullness makes me numb.
Dim! —they believe— Witless and obtuse.
At their bluntness I take no offence
And their short-mindedness I excuse.
The foreigner finds silence as displeasing
As unintelligible mumbling noises.
The outlander is disturbed by the quivering,
Weakened, faint and silenced voices.
Let their dumbness dissipate and fade away
For you are your only master, you hold sway!
