Squeak


The small sounds, the soft sounds,
You speak them to no reply.
You cannot be heard. Where are you bound?
To you, they say, nice try.
You say there is power in repetition,
So perhaps, but ears ignore,
They wish you speak no more.
There is no thunder under your door.
They do not know the explosion therein,
Try once more.
You can win.
Ignoring, soft sounds brings downfall,
You must find a way, to strengthen the weak,
Before the silencing of all.
You were heard, but heed not taken,
Your efforts were forsaken.
Arise at last.
Show what happens when,
Together voices blast,
From a squeak once shunned,
The power in the sound,
While once soft not heeded, united,
Becomes abused power undone.
Squeak no more,
Those who now roar.

Roger Bodo © 1/2017