to remain silent

 

the prison to the right to remain silent

is the living inside of what is not ever said.

each of us has a devoted follower there.

for my lips are sealed

to what can't be rationally said in words.

an inner voice part of us

that is in no way appropriate 

for general conversation,

maybe not relevant 

to apparent external circumstances.

internal voices 

that argue amongst themselves,

that lead interior lives 

without others' intervention,

that write a dairy in mind 

that no one else will ever read,

that spice and smart-ass remark 

to no one else's ears,

as the appraisal value-landscape 

to the world around.

all of these, living in the village 

of remain silent,

as invisible walls, 

untold stories and evidence.

passions and frustrations abound concealed.

for where we as prisoners, 

accept out guilty verdicts,

have contingencies 

of self respect and denials,

the burden of being prisoner and warden,

lawyer, judge, victim, and self as accused.

no one is ever a complete jury 

readied for a verdict.

but we blab in code,

snide in disguise,

create monumental silence 

as pregnant moments,

while unsaid is 

its own potential penitentiary.

prison life goes on unacknowledged, 

big time.

but the habits and act-outs do reveal

that we are all a product 

of what we don't say,

as much as reputable by what we do 

even respect can have a dignified shadow,

cast by the light shining, 

from the unsaid living within . . .