But what is whispered.
The inclination for civilians to communicate with one another inevitably necessitates such desire for reasons to be informed of what perhaps could have been missed had one chosen not to partake.
It is easy to choose to hide away, become recluse from society and all of the world’s commiserations. Choosing to fast from the news and veer away from any social media creates an invisible shield for the heart, mind, and spirit from all darkness of the world. Up until a time where you sense lives and loved ones could be impacted, shunning away from local to global informants could very much be a clean choice. However, once an invasion of personal livelihood is threatened or impacted, a plan of action is sensed as a need to take into play.
I learned from my aunt, who was a teacher at the time of World War II, that she heard conversation between neighbors and her father (my grandfather whom I wished to have met, but long passed before my existence) before the war that if it were to occur, it would last about three weeks tops. Leaders would naturally want to work together to resolve issues to avoid such cataclysmic event to even take place. WWII happened. It lasted three years.
The open talks were the confident exchange of words with one another that perhaps were openly being spoken to create a form of outward endeavor for peace and unity. Then, quickly, the whispers began.
My aunt recalled going back the following school day as she normally did, having not been told otherwise. (Back when no text messaging could speedily provide you updates.) I would like to believe, as I recall my own journeys of uncertainties that my aunt was strongly hopeful all would resume as usual. This would have been me as I see myself this way to this day.
It didn’t take long for my aunt to take note that the existence of the usual was not the case. While she intended to resume her duty as a teacher, she saw that the school had less students present as another day passed. She recalls those eerie silence intermingled with whispers.
Whispers of uncertainty. What was happening? What was going to happen next? What would everyone need to do next? What next?
Whispers of the next steps were inevitable as clearly, having felt the jovial attitudes of others around just a few days ago dissipate, seemingly being replaced with unspoken panic- there was nothing left to do, but prepare for a temporary change of comfort and routine. For how long, all hoped to be brief.
Whispers started to make her realize that they were in for something longer than a few weeks. With the prolific growth of silence, her ears had to be in close touch with those trying to make sense of what was to come.
The whispers continued in school when they were dismissed that one last day. She arrived home to see her parents whispering amongst each other that they had to find transportation to leave town. Right away, they gathered what they could and before they knew it, they were traversing land they had never come across before, one year after another, until those three years thought of as three weeks ended.
Those whispers. That eerie discomfort of knowing that whatever is being spoken must not be heard by all. Those whispers. That telling of the mind that there was secrecy amongst the room to either protect you or prevent you from hearing what was being exchanged. Those whispers. That feeling that somehow you were not included in the decision or opinion between those commiserating amongst one another and yet, would be impacted by ultimate choices made. Those whispers. That fear that creeps from within, creating wonder as to what one has not heard. Those whispers that force you to remain strong because anything else could leave you in the dark where hopelessness is always waiting for the weak. With your armor on, you listen.
Whispers
Those whispers.
They were loud- I ignored to hear
Perhaps to no desire,
Perhaps to not fear.
Those whispers.
They existed- I did not partake
Perhaps not wanting,
Perhaps good for my sake.
They were there, however
I dared not pick up
I sensed no flowers
Just weeds to pluck
Yet I knew
They were meant to scatter
Resilient to stay
Those whispers-
They were meant to matter
I hear them
Loudly they speak
I dislike their message
The stench they wreak
I hear them
Changing my spirit
I deny the message
Still, I feel it
I hear them
The truth is told
Left unaware
Of what to unfold
Those whispers
While some to dismiss
This one, different
A serpent’s hiss
Those whispers
While not right
This one, taunting
In faith, I fight
I stand strong
Ready to take part
There will be peace again
I know it in my heart.
