There was a reason I called this blog Public Whispers, and will be the reason I name my collection, if I ever do one, that same name. This is it:
’99, 4 Years old, a little boy
With tight curls on his head
Moved town.
A boy taught to act in silence
Or to act in violence
Began to learn how to speak.
Years past and his curls
Slowly unraveled themselves
Just as his mind was doing the same
This boy would whisper thoughts
And poetic imaginings to himself
When his trust was broken,
When his mind was lost
In his strange labyrinth of lies and emotion
When life seemed so much shorter.
Until the day
He learnt to smile
And to laugh
And to voice
His public whispers.
– Liam Xavier
