-- They Come as Whispers --

by John Herlihy

Sometimes they come as whispers,

Words heard on the faintest breath.

Tempting, tantalizing, soft whispers,

When listened to contain such heft.

Sometimes they come as gentle notes,

Lending inviting rhythms into the mind.

Soothing breath that in the wind floats,

Inviting sound to fill the ears of the blind.

Sometimes they come as distant voices,

Saying things we desperately want to hear.

Whether loud or soft, disparate voices,

To lift me out of the depths with cheer.

Sometimes they come as a breeze,

Words gentle, sweet, felt as a touch.

Dew to settle in the mind with ease,

As dawn awakened by an idle thrush.

Sometimes they come as a breath,

Taken in, set free, without a thought.

Stark rhythms speak of life and death,

Never lost, never found, only sought.

Sometimes they come as wind chimes,

Melodic and visible only to the blind.

Words that echo as sign of the times,

With sole intent to sound notes kind.

Sometimes they come as a whistle,

Purposefully blown to sound alarm.

To fly away like the down of a thistle,

Words to instill fear with little charm.

Sometimes the whispers come not at all,

Silence that ensues seemingly unbearable.

Until whispers return, holding us in thrall,

As anointed breath that makes life bearable.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 12 10 October 2023