The Message



Are you there?

I can't tell. I am speaking

Into the emptiness of space, hoping

There is someone there

On the other side

To listen.


It is lonely here, on my side of the wall. 

The echoes of my own words surround me 

Like music, rhythms that

Rise and fall.

But there is no melody, only the thrumming

Beat of my heart.


I am trapped

Inside this paper

But I feel more free than ever.

I am words;

I have life.

I can do so many things that I was afraid of doing before.

I can fly

Like a fledgling bird:

Wavering at first,

And inexperienced,

But growing stronger and stronger.


I sit silently in a corner. The shadows

Fall across my face, making it striped and gray.

I don't exist,

Not really,

But I am hiding here.

I do not know where you are but I know that you're

Listening, watching.

We are separated only by glass

But it is tinted, dark.

I cannot reach you

But perhaps my message can.


I am drowning, here,

At the bottom of the ocean.

It is cold and silent and

Maybe the entire world does not exist at all.

I am making ripples

So you can find them on the surface.

I will be long gone

But you will at least know that

I was here. 


I am frightened.

There is so much empty space.

It crowds me and 

Makes me feel small.

It is an enemy, much larger than I, and

Far more powerful. 

My only weapons are my words.

They stand around me in defense

Like the light of a fire desperately fighting the darkness around it.


I am screaming, now,

But because of the distance

Nothing can be heard. 

The snow muffles the sound.

It is blinding as it swirls around me

In a silent roar

As loud as my words.

It erases everything,

Making me forget the heavy outlines, the dark shapes, the monsters in the night.

They fade to gray, then white.

Soon the wind and snow will fade

Me away, too.


I was never here to begin with. 

You will find no trace of me

Except for a soft imprint of words

Written in sand and washed away 

For thousands of years.

You will forget. 

You will pause for a moment,

And think, 

Then shrug your shoulders and walk away.


But perhaps,

Somewhere far away

On the other side,

Someone will remember. Someone will

Put their hands on the glass

And fog it up with their warm breath and

Strain to hear the words.

Someone will whisper

A response.

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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