Silent Screams...

  Peering eyes from rich landscapes across Continents, and beyond Oceans and great seas, found in children, young adults, husbands, wives and mothers and the aged, scream so silent, that their voices go UN-notice and because eyes make no sound, their secrets lie in the cold bodies of all once they are taken in death to the cold grave.
     Before the age of 7, a child is in the development stage, and as little trees, they find adjustments from their surroundings. There is an evil beyond words perpetrated on such for the purpose of growth for those too close to the grave not to know better, and but for the lie told, feed on these little ones for more then vitality and power. Dark sentences are made off the backs of children too young to stand as such, and from them a theft beyond words takes place, yet in their eyes, although seldom seen, are the horrid looks and pleas for help that only foster the joy of those too drunk with their essence to notice. It is not good to speak of things that are done in that darkness, but be ye well assured, God is neither asleep or in slumber mode, there is a day of reckoning and none soon enough. All men and women die, notwithstanding anything pulled from children to avoid it. The Orphanage, the school grounds, homes where there are Parents at war, hospitals where children get to feel for the first time a made up bed, and sorted prisons where some children learn to eat a balance meal for the first time. In their eyes, silent screams lash out, and only the recording Angel sent to pen every sad detail inscribes their lives with accurate details only God demands. 
     Those who make it to their young adulthood, barely have they time and chance to adjust to what they are, before the who they are is snatched up with unprecedented vice for why they are. Children who are used for exploitative purposes, need a source beyond the whispers of the masses, breeding for this purpose is not beyond the technology of this debased aged, and what goes on where the money has its hub, are the unspeakable that is tucked behind black suit and tails, long dressing and fancy oils. Television, cable and the internet, fixes a smorgasbord of how to before where to can be brought to bare, and just before the smile of satisfaction can settle on the faces of these youths, pregnancy, decease, or death calls err the consequence show up in writing. Everywhere the eyes of today's youth blink enough to say life is active, yet beyond the glaze is a silent voice crying for change that contradicts the ring in their body language.
     From baritone and bass, or after sex and  just before a good visit to the bank, first tenor or alto, men can be found mingling and managing this and that. Just what goes into a man's day varies just as much as the man himself. However, husbands have a demand on them unlike regular men. To be responsible for the life and liberty of a home set on his back, a man may grow a beard thinker then usual. Add to the mix children and a dog, the stress seems to effect his pee. He will no doubt be upset with missing meals, irregular sleeping arrangements, and missing money, but disrespect and dark clouds that linger over his kids, may cause his eyes to wiggle in red. Some sink in the bottle, others find redemption in prison, still others run to the Sea in hopes of a mermaid, in any event, the stories told in the eyes of husbands around the World staggers the mind, for the pain associated with a man's immediate  family sits on his eyes where his heart has no space.
     Women, wives and mothers find expression with their eyes unlike anything or anyone in nature. What a woman can do with her eyes can stop traffic and or start the band. A woman's eyelashes seem to be attached to her heart and mind. On command, she can signal thunder err the lightning shows up. When in despair, or in fear, a woman's eyes stands like a banner, and any man with mussels knows from instinct he is needed and without notice to his brain, he will act just because. Wives, seek the goodness for their special significant other, and when she feels incapable her joy finds the slope that takes her head long and first down depression avenue. But no woman suffers like that of a mother. From an unwanted man to an unwanted pregnancy to a bad delivery to a despondent child too ungrateful and highly disrespectful despite all she has gone though to agree to the nine months developing her child. Just a walk in any town or village, supermarket or meeting place, a steady steam of women can be seen with eyes, who speak to whoever can hear. Just where they cry, is as obscure as their why, yet truth be told, their numbers grow with every second of the day.
       Those who have been here in the heat of the day, are the aged, and their suffering in silence has become legendary. The bible said three score and ten shall be the lifespan of men, and at 65, the elderly look forward to the cross line with many thoughts. The more years spent beyond the finish line without pain and plight, is a silent joy not on record. Lose fitting clothes, and shoes that make way for corns are but a small reach for the elderly. Ben-gay, moth balls, yesterday, and deep silence, maybe a tear here and there, but it's their eyes. Wrinkled flesh that set them in a frame that speaks time's passing, trembling lips that dare not burden their love ones, for fear of chasing them away. What they wouldn't say, is locked in those eyes that remember brighter times, and as death threatens their expressions, that same death hails a rest that waits the joining of those gone on before. We may not be able to hear the voices of children, young adults, husbands, wives and mother or even the Elderly who need to express themselves the most, but what we can do, is realize they are here among us, and more then this, we know it. Let us feel it, and them, because we know, we can say but for the grace of God, there go us...nj