Mid-January is the silent time.

This time all printed words have ignored.

This day the whole of them fall quiet.

 

They dare not to speak of the dead ones,

Or of poverty-stricken women,

Whom liars prey upon for money.

 

They dare not to speak of the dead ones,

Or of the women of Africa,

Bidding foreigners to leave them be.

 

They dare not to speak of the dead ones,

Or of young girls used by lustful men,

Whose abuse went hid by the greedy.

 

They dare not to speak of the dead ones,

Of Native children ripped from the womb,

Despite all the pleas of their mothers.

 

And they shall not speak of those living,

Who march for the dead ones who cannot,

Though the crowd’s too manyfold to hide.

 

Mid-January is the silent time.

For they must ignore quiet dead,

And the crowd of vocal living.