The Quiet Injunction

The curtain was drawn without sound—
The filing stub still could be found.
Behind lay a void,
The content destroyed,
And silence was all that was wound.

A document marked red and sealed—
“UNAVAILABLE,” the stamp revealed.
Behind the red mark,
A legal, dark arc,
And nothing would ever be healed.

The margins were redacted too—
Till nothing but redaction grew.
The lines were all dark,
Without any spark,
And the page disappeared from the view.

The content was torn from the shelf—
But the stub was left there by itself.
It showed something was,
But behind legal cause,
Now silently hiding itself.

An injunction brought quiet so deep—
A silence that nobody could keep.
The files stayed sealed,
The truth unrevealed,
And the quiet ran centuries deep.

A directive came down from on high—
“Censor that,” was the legal cry.
The Quiet Injunction
Applied its constriction,
And meaning just passed slowly by.

A space where the content once sat—
Now empty, now silent, so flat.
The Quiet Injunction
Drew the curtain’s conduction,
And left nothing but absence at that.

The law kept the silence so near—
No document, no voice to hear.
The injunction so red,
The content now dead,
And nothing would ever be clear.