The Silent Weeping

Soul Poetry

Awoken through the silence of night and darkness,

by a sound, almost imperceivable,

I leaned upwards, covers slowly falling from my shoulders

and a chill running upwards along my spine.

It was faint, distant, but I heard it-

The soft and silent weeping.

I hugged my arms around my self,

trying to orient to the dimness of the room

and hone in on the direction of the sound.

It was familiar and yet, not.

I rose from my bed and made my way through

the shadows to the door.

Out in the hallway, out in the house,

nothing stirred, save for myself.

I made the rounds, checking every sleeping form,

listening for their cries,

but all slept soundly, deeply in rem slumber.

I could still hear it, the soft and silent weeping,

but its source was still unknown to me.

I peered out the front window, creaking it open

slightly, but no noise, except for rustling branches

and scampering nocturnals pierced the night.

Confused and disoriented I made my path back

to my room, the soft and silent weeping following

my ears all the way.

Where was the sound coming from?

Who cried so heartwrenchingly, so lost,

so alone?

It was utterly sad and painful to hear,

so I lay my head upon my pillow once more,

trying to cushion out the unknown and hopeless cries.

And then, in that very moment, I knew.

I knew where the soft and silent weeping

eminated from,

as my face touched down

upon the cool dampness of my pillow.

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