Poem Aug 22 2013

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Sophie Goldstein's picture
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The Middleground

In the middle of today

In the middle of the street

In the middle of the sound

That sound

That high pitched sound

Where you can hear nothing else

In the middle of the square lie thousands

In the middle of the blood kneel women

Screaming women

Holding the hands of their lifeless

In the middle of the screaming there are cries. So many cries.

But I cannot hear them.

For I  am wondering what it would be like to live in the middle of someplace else

I wonder what it would be like to not hear any sound at all

Or other sounds

I dream of waking up in the middle of a bird chirping

Or a baby laughing

I dream of looking out a window and catching children in the middle of their playing ball

I dream of yesterday

Yesterday when it didn’t seem quite so bad

But maybe it was

I have never really known a difference

I am not yet old enough to remember a time of peace

Was there ever peace?

Perhaps for me there was a middle ground

A moment between nothingness and utter chaos

When now there is a high pitched silence

A screeching note that goes on forever through the smoke created in the street

Through the blood that is still flowing down our drains

It can be heard in every wail

In every prayer

It is in the middle of our hearts, our minds, our souls

It is that sound that we know so well

After a bomb explodes

After a gun goes off right next to you

And your ears start to ring

And it rings forever

It rings throughout the middle of the day

In the middle of the sunset

Into the middle of the night

And for us it never stops

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