I was raised by a hard man. Just my brother and me. We learned to whisper, Whisper quietly so no one could hear. They were raise by a hard man, 12 of them sharing the same lot. They learned to whisper, but with such noise all around they didn’t learn how to whisper softly.
I left for the party thinking about the whispers. Knowing that there was no way to stop them whether I was there or not.
“She’s not doing well. He’s not doing well. She’s not doing well. Their not doing well.”
“How could she\he\ she\ he have more children? Should have stopped at one...two...three...four…!” She\he still smokes. She \she\he should have taught them better…I did.”
“She is afraid of everything. She hates
“He got fat, she lost too much weight.”
They blame me. They blame you.”
“What a shame…how sad…They kill bugs!”
Soon I am whispering to. Not quietly as I was trained, but loud and mean and sad. Whispering none the less. Why don’t we know that everyone can hear but no one is listening?
Why couldn’t we just talk, listen and ask questions? Then we could cry, laugh, and know the truth.
There are no more hard hearted amoungst us.?! Just whispering.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.
Paul Simon
