These are the others

Tail a thought.

a calabash of silence holds
the ambiance of lies told as few.
There are memories in whispers
and loudness in numbness.
so before you cleanse, pour
before you’re robbed, seek
for there is a lining of grudge cooled in these hills,
buried beside the bed built by brokenness.
We all are mother and children
baked by darkness, heated by sin.

Ruddapoet