“The dog did nothing in the night-time,” said Gregory, the Scotland Yard detective.
“That was the curious incident,” remarked Sherlock Holmes.
(Holmes points out that the dog’s silence reveals the true culprit.)
— Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of Silver Blaze
The Dog That Hasn’t Barked
I want you to realize
that the dog that hasn’t barked,
the one who lingered in silence
at the gala’s edge,
on the private flight,
in the island’s hush —
that dog is quiet because
recent revelations expose only the outline
of esoteric secrets locked away.
He does not bark because he knows
the facts are brewing.
He feels the weight of all that’s unspoken,
the eyes that turned aside —
a fragile shield of power
believing their darkest acts were hidden.
We did not hear the bark,
but we do hear the restless human clamoring,
the magic dreams that stir after midnight,
see faces of those who scraped
their footprints from the soil,
the guests who slipped from the party
without a wave because their presence
was never meant to be seen.
I want you to realize
that truth sits quietly in the room
with all the trophies;
in the email thread marked by typos
and high importance;
in the photographs and videos
no one ever talks about?
the ones some would prefer
had never existed;
and in the memories of the wounded,
that even death cannot erase.
And when the dog finally barks,
after the long-hidden files
have come into the light,
the collective gasp will reverberate
through the decades.
And the masses who witness
will shake their heads in disbelief.