Friday 7 February 2020

The Voices

by Nick Gisburne



Your mind is a blizzard of feverish voices
They howl as they wrestle and writhe in your head
Each fights to be heard and the winner rejoices
Its prize is a moment of madness and dread

A violent thunderclap breaks the confusion
As ever, the first is the face of a girl
“I’m flying! I’m flying!” But this is illusion
She fades as the noises, the images, swirl

A little boy dangles a pitiful kitten
“There’s no one to fix it!” He bristles with hate
And pushing its body inside an old mitten
He digs it a grave at a furious rate

A woman: “Don’t touch me, you monster! I’ll kill you!”
A cyclone of spiralling anguish and hurt
You’re aching to tell her you’re sorry, but will you?
Too late, she is gone with a flick of her skirt

A teenager, raging, beats fast as a drummer
The fists on your temples are cruel and keen
“What happened?” He curses, this angry newcomer
A dangerous cog in your mental machine

The faceless officials all tower above you
Preposterous fingers jab into your brain
“Not good enough!”, “Idiot!”, “Nobody loves you!”
A chorus of scorn, a malicious refrain

“It’s what you deserve,” rolls the voice of a devil
A man with a crooked, contemptuous smile
The venom is pungent, but measured and level
His acid malevolence burns you with bile

Two grey-headed old ones step forward, together
They hurl an explosion of anger at you
“As long as we live we will hate you forever!”
“Whatever you say and whatever you do!”

A woman has twisted her face to show sorrow
Her platitudes futile, pathetic and small
You’ll hear them again and again, then tomorrow
“But how could you know?” is the worst of them all

Another. Her silvery, skeletal fingers
Scratch deep to the delicate nerves of your eyes
“I saw you,” she whispers. “I saw you.” She lingers
But she is the weakest, the slowest to rise

The faces all fade and leave only your daughter
No words, but you hear her; she hides but you see
She screams as her body slides under the water
And always, from this, you will never be free

And you, in the mirror, that hollow reflection
What words would you offer to challenge the rest?
The father, the key to a daughter’s protection
Forgetful, distracted, now haunted, possessed

You stand at the edge of the cliff and the ocean
You call to the waves, far below, where she fell
And so, in a single, unstoppable motion
You silence the voices, a final farewell