Poetry

The Tree of Voices : Adil Wird

He continued to call everyone.
Those who couldn’t hear him, were awed.
Their feet were not in their control,
but feet don’t listen
Their watery eyes forgot to blink,
as see they only could.
A thin blood line made its way down to their ears towards yoked necks.
Those who couldn’t listen were more in numbers.
Being deaf was a proven stigma.
But there was one, the only one, who answered the call.
The last man smiling.

younus khayyal

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