MUZZLED

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Let her loose
In the oneness of a gander and a goose
Let her choose
She knows her don'ts and dos
Who is who to decide who is who?

The screams are in her throat
Her tears are on the road
Muffled, but we are hardly muted

Our minds go where our feet can't
Even with blindfolds, we still see what we want
Like a tree by the bank, we are watered by our hopes

When tears flow, they tell only one of two things
They either tell of the joy that has defied words
Or the hurt that has gathered like clouds
Even rivers that dry up have hopes of flowing again when rains will come

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