Thoughts in the greenroom

One could sense the heat
in your eyes, on your face
though you leave a mild trace
perhaps your victory is in your defeat?

Then why do the thoughts
travel in silence, for ages
freeze in your minds,
mountains and icebergs
never come out
not even as mud, rivulets
on the waiting page;
who has fastened your mouth
covered your visage
what fear do you have
feelings bickering inside
burning in the kitchens
failing on beds,
bruised in the open market place
a mound in the womb
inside, never to see light?

The relegated volumes
could turn them
into a new chapter
if you unearthed some
from your cemented souls
sky could fall in your garden
looking for the shining stars
if the saplings came out from your greenroom
appeared on the stage.

Your not wanting to speak
rains in teardrops
inundating every home of the world,
still homes
you efface your own letters
before they could
form into words,
what could keep the thoughts
so long in prison.
The tired stretch of silence
tied for years
seems to loosen
appears to screech
tends to break apart
constantly simmers.