The Gray Lines Of Recollections

Expressions dipped in hazy descriptions,
tangible knowledge erodes into blurry details,
mouths stumble over words
as eyes drift away from facing
that place where questions rain,
which a ruling voice booms
and summons waves of fiery inquisition.

In the halls of jurist prudence
where evidence is the trail of the heart,
lips of the one who left the tracks
dance their song in such dire hopes
of attempting to sway
by a tale of interpreted facts.

Memory always trapped
behind the mask,
while ears listening
decipher what is testified
deciding if it is more real than deception.

Within a jury’s brain cells
lies the election of innocence,
ballots cast to declare
what recollection was believed.

A life time spent by the one
who was on trial,
only inside does the truth prevail
if the testimony given
was false or honest.