What Do You Hear?

They wanted us to cover our ears
So we could not hear
The screams of the other prisoners.
-- Dorothy Parvaz

This is the world we live in.
This is what they don’t want us to hear.

I hear the sirens from my window.
The city runs them day and night.
I hardly hear them anymore.
The city runs them every day.

I hear a voice telling me:
They do it all the time,
So we won’t hear them.

I find some days,
I only want to hear that voice
Telling what they don’t want me to hear.

But I want to hear my voice, too…
And yours,
And yours and yours and yours.

Good one Peter, I'd like to hear what your motivation was for this poem.

Les,

I listen to and read Democracy Now weekday mornings. The other day there was a wide discrepancy between the audio version and the 'rush transcript. version of a news article about Dorothy Parvaz -- the transcription leaving out the poignant words at the beginning of this poem. It got me meditating on the management of the news by those who present it. DN generally presents the news in a way that favors my views, but even our allies, I find, in the news-casting business sometimes do us a disservice by their 'editorial' choices. Hence, the poem and its twistings away from its 'source.'

amo et avanti,


Peter

Thanks once again for the insight into this piece Peter. The spin doctors are like rust, they never sleep.


Les

I hear your voice...it's crystal clear.

Thanks, Sherry.