Whispers or the love song? (Poem)

There is a whisper 

breathless and full of repine 

counting down the ifs

the and couldas and the shouldas…

the well is full of these regrets

with night as black as coal 

and eyes that stare menacingly back

as if in reproach and in contrition. 

Were it so and the hands of time

were to cooperate 

the hands of man might undo

that which enslaves the mind, body and soul.

We are all slaves. 

Shackled, broken, held against our

will, our identities wiped away 

how wretched it must be

to remain if freedom loomed 

with open door and nail pierced hands.

Though the whispers may continue

we do not have to listen anymore.

For there is a far better song

a lyric sewn with love

webbed with compassion 

and grafted like our blood line

to our Father. 

Yes, the whispers might continue

but give ear to the song of love

for it beckons and grants a much kinder 

destination without chains or remorse. 

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