Repetition by Nia Griffiths

There is silence in this land.

It echoes, slowly at first, it cascades into an

unimaginably ferocious quiet.

It’s unbearable. Unsurpassable.

We do not speak. Our screams evade us.

Words fail us, and when spoken,

we will fail them.

Did you see the news?

The bloodshed of a million

words unspoken? Of a million words



They did not show you,

you would break the blinding silence

between us,

twirl the screeching webs between your fingertips,

cry out at the mirrors in your living room.

We are here.

That day the women were painted red

with the blood of the grandchildren

losing their bodies to the nation

they fought to protect.

Now dried, covered by wind,

We slip into silence again.