WHISPERS IN THE DUST
In the shadows, she waits,
A daughter’s dreams curbed by whispered norms,
A mother’s voice drowned in quiet.
“Do you hear the weight of our silence?”
She asks, her strength rising from the ashes
Of a world blind to her power.
Her words, though soft, spark revolutions,
Shining in the darkness that sought to keep her down.
“How can I learn when my hands are bound?”
A child’s voice chimes in, burdened by work,
Classrooms overflow, minds starved.
“Education is a distant dream,”
He sighs, hoping to break free
From chains that tie him to survival,
Dreaming of a world where knowledge flows freely,
Where learning is not a privilege but a right.
“Inequality whispers in every corner,”
Another voice joins, heavy with truth,
“Some bathed in light, others lost in shadows.”
The forgotten receive scraps,
While others feast on dreams fulfilled.
Justice, a fragile concept,
Pressed under the weight of what’s denied,
Scales tipped by hands unseen,
Leaving many to bear the burden alone.
“I am the earth,” she speaks softly,
Cracked and gasping for breath.
“You tear me apart, wondering why storms rage.”
Forests burn, rivers dry,
“Yet you turn away,” she mourns,
“Forgetting that without me, you too will crumble.”
Her essence fades beneath your feet,
A silent plea for understanding.
“We were vibrant once,” the ocean’s voice flows in,
Creatures of the deep dancing through waves of life,
Now navigating through poison and decay.
“Your waste sinks into our homes,”
Coral fades, voices lost in the abyss.
“We were vibrant, now shadows beneath the tide,
Our existence overshadowed by negligence.”
“I am the forest,” a voice of ancient trees interjects,
Once lush and alive, now stripped bare,
“My spirit stolen by relentless hands.”
Animals flee, birdsong silenced,
“The air choked on dust and greed,”
A silent witness to the destruction
That lies in the wake of your desires.
“Peace is a word spoken lightly,” a weary voice begins,
“Yet war echoes in every corner.”
Justice, blind to the cries of the oppressed,
“The strong mold laws to fit their needs,”
He laments, the voice of the unheard,
Children yearning for a world that’s fair,
A promise of peace shattered by the truth—
There is no peace without justice,
And no justice without relentless struggle.
“In the solitude of my room,” a young woman whispers,
“I battle alone, my heart aching beneath a mask.”
A culture that whispers, “Don’t speak,”
Navigating pain in a world demanding strength,
“I am a ghost with wounds concealed,”
A quiet scream lost in a land of silence,
Yearning for understanding that never comes.
“In the quiet hours,” a young man’s voice rises,
“I wrestle with despair, expected to be strong.”
Emotions seen as weakness,
Seeking help deemed a failure.
“I mask my anguish with a stoic face,”
The darkness within growing heavier,
“While I am lost in a world that cannot see.”
“Before dawn, I rise,” a child’s voice returns,
Hands small but worn, working for survival.
“Education is a distant dream,”
A luxury beyond reach.
While others learn and grow,
He toils for his place,
“Hoping one day to break free,”
To live in a world where learning is a right,
Not a privilege for the few.
“My skin, a dark tapestry of heritage,” a voice speaks out,
Yet here, it’s a mark of scorn.
“Even among my own, I am told I am too dark,”
A shadow in a world that refuses to see
The beauty of heritage,
The strength in identity,
The fire that refuses to be extinguished.
“I am white,” another voice chimes in,
“But privilege is a facade.”
They see only color,
Assuming my life is perfect,
Ignoring the battles I fight.
“In their eyes, I am untouchable,”
Yet I am bullied, dismissed,
A victim of stereotypes
That cage me in a world of assumptions,
Struggling to break free.
“In a land where my eyes are an anomaly,”
A voice from the East joins,
“I am judged before I speak.”
Whispers, stares, assumptions paint me as different.
“They say I am silent,”
But they do not know the struggles I face,
Barriers of culture and prejudice
That shape my world,
Struggling to be seen for who I truly am.
“I left my home,” a final voice adds,
“For a promise turned nightmare.”
In a foreign land, I am a captive,
Working in silence, far from the warmth
Of my mother’s embrace.
The language is foreign, faces strange,
“My heart aches for my homeland.”
I dream of freedom,
Of returning to where I belong,
To a place where I am not just a commodity,
But a person with a name, a story, a home.
And I… I’m just a watcher,
They tell me it has nothing to do with me.
They say I’m not being affected, so why should I care?
“They tell me the people you’re sooo worried about don’t even know you,”
They say I shouldn’t fight a war that isn’t mine.
Yet, I watch,
Witness to the suffering and struggle,
Wondering how I can remain silent
In the face of such overwhelming need.
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