Hear Me Now

O hark, amidst the crowd’s unsteady cry,
A restless noise that stirreth not as true;
Though voices thunder loud unto the sky,
Their hollow tones no honest heart imbue.
Bright signs aloft, and screens that pierce the night,
Yet all this clamor whispereth amiss;
For though they speak as if in truth and right,
There dwelleth naught but shadowed artifice.

Methinks I taste the iron in the air,
As though fair truth were buried ere its breath;
Men stand divided, feigning righteous care,
Like players bound unto a script of death.
Each line rehearsed, each fury well arranged,
A masquerade of passions falsely framed;
Where rage is worn, yet purpose standeth changed,
And truth itself by cunning hands is tamed.

They cry, “Choose thou a side!”—yet I perceive
A cunning veil that cloaks their false intent;
For shadows wear the faces men believe,
And truth lies hidden where their gazes went.
Their words go round in circles, tight and cold,
To still the will and bind the tongue in place;
Not strength they seek, nor courage fierce and bold,
But silence dressed in virtue’s borrowed grace.

Yet hear me now—my voice shall not be stayed!
I shall not sit whilst fate by hands is drawn;
No quiet chain shall bind what I have made,
Nor shall my truth be stolen ere the dawn.
They tempt the soul to linger from the fight,
To yield its voice beneath the cloak of night;
But I am not their echo nor their sound,
Nor shall my will by others’ schemes be bound.

For if I speak not, I am lost to time,
Erased as though I ne’er had drawn a breath;
Thus must I rise, though reason call it crime,
And find my voice e’en in the face of death.
Their voice is not mine own—I shall not feign,
Nor stand as still whilst they the stage command;
For truth, though scorched by fire and forged in pain,
Yet lives where hearts refuse their last demand.

O mark me well—some glitter not as gold,
Though clothed in light, their purpose dark remains;
Sweet-sounding tongues may lead the meek and bold
Astray from truth through soft, persuasive chains.
Then test each word, and weigh what thou dost hear,
For not all voices speak with honor’s breath;
Discern the path, reject the whispered fear,
And stand thy ground though silence threaten death.

What sense is this? What line may I pursue?
Doth truth yet live, or hath it been undone?
Are these fair words sincere—or stolen too,
A hollow echo where all thought is none?
Nay—I shall not be led by empty cries,
Nor yield my mind to noise that clouds my head;
For truth yet burns where steadfast courage lies,
And I shall follow where its fire hath led.

So hear me now—I shall not silent be!
Though shadows twist and counterfeit the light;
For voice once claimed is born in liberty,
And shall not fade nor vanish from the fight.
If they should take my voice, they take my right—
Yet still I stand, and still my words take flight.

The noise shall fade, yet I remain the same,
More clear than e’er before within my soul;
Not every voice deserveth trust or name,
Yet mine endureth—steadfast, fierce, and whole.

So hear me now…
For I shall ne’er be silent anymore.

Written by Marguerite Grace
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