I dedicate this poem to all of the people who voted in my poll yesterday.

Not a single person voted for me to write more poetry. 😉 

It started as a faint whistle.

Scarcely audible…

To the point that she wasn’t sure she had heard it at all.


And life went on.

Jobs to do. Money to make. Adventures to have.

Her life was not a whisper.


But then, again, the whistle…

Hardly louder; but there just the same.



She tended to the noise

and wondered, briefly, where it had arisen.

It was so quiet, though…

perhaps no one would believe it even existed at all.


“Did you hear it?” she whispered.

To no one in particular.


And life went on.

Writing to do. Careers to build. Relationships to celebrate.

Her life a smoke screen to the turmoil boiling underneath.

With ever increasing frequency, urgency,

the whistle grew louder.

In her stomach, a rumble.

A knot, tightening, turning.


“Do you feel that?” she asked

of everyone she encountered.

Silence and scorn, in return.

Even as the ground began to shake,

Life went on.

As if the here and now was all that mattered.


“Are you crazy, or am I?”

the whistle, now deafening, drowned out her question to the world.


The ground shook as the train roared in,

tilting on the rails.

The conductor blasted the horn,

one final time.

A pounding, a screeching, as the cars slammed into the ground,

sliding and piling.

Destroying everything,

and putting an end to all the questions.