Unspoken

• Eden Best, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2009

Thy feelings beat through my body as trees do to the wind,
To the sting of the ghastly smell of the hand that has sinned.
Thy name burns my tongue until it can be felt in my mouth no more,
Thy bitter distaste I feel for thee etched into my core.
To the hands that crave to be prosecuted, executed, detached from whence they came,
For hands explore my body to which their presence is proclaimed.
To days of which were spent to mourn the loss,
Of my body and its being, for which I bear another cross.
For now I am a shadow lingering in a corpse which is broken
My lips shall now and forever more remain sewn and unspoken.