A deaf standing between noises,
no earphones—just her not hearing any voices,
just like a dove in the midst of murder of crows,
a muted place for a mouse in a lion’s roars.
She once wept and ran away from chaos,
bleeding papers rustling in a quiet cosmos,
around the barren walls hushing her softly,
creeping her consciousness until it flees.
However, she gradually learned to breathe—
shutting her self, and her world from the seethe,
she still cries like a child longing for an arm to hold,
but she learned to be an iron not a melting gold.
