CONVERSATIONS

Hummed in low tones yet never dying down
Done in secluded places as in open paths
From rooftops in moonlit country,
As in dark poorly lit hamlets,
Addressed to kings and queens
Through emissaries and missives,
Sounding like the noise in a congregation,
That never dies down.
Throughout the night word goes round,
With women shielding their echos,
So word doesn't land on just anyone
But reaches the intentioned.
These are the conversations about ourselves,
And the things we crave for,
Its talks about our culture,
And about our government.
It is this pregnant moment,
That fills our thoughts
And saturates our dreams.
If walls have ears,
And the still quiet moment that listens gives way,
They would say what we're engaged in .
They would say this is the conversations,
That broke away from the past,
And charted a future for us,
And for our children.