Reflections of the distinct absense of sound. |
Post Nublia, Phoebus Time is lost each day, Like sand washed bones, Children, tricked by a man In red, white and blue On a glossy poster pasted to crumbling walls, Lost in a Desert Storm. Become a folded wedge of stars And it becomes harder to believe That after clouds, Sun. Subtle Silence Subtle silence Occurs to me ten minutes Into my meditation On the cool air sneaking under my window Making the curtains shiver And spattering goose bumps across my arm I smile and wonder fleetingly Whether the wind misses This little piece of itself Eruption of Silence I sit in silence. O! It is loud! Wings of things that cannot fly Flutter and flap Whispering their secrets With the hope that I will understand Internal Monologue Locked in my mind forever An internal monologue That is deafening Telling me things I don’t want to hear. Asking me why you are my friend – I cannot answer Though for seven years I thought I knew But now I see: I lie in the dust Like Job As friends fill ears with unkind words, Injuring his soul. I will lie in the dust, I say, I wonder would I be the same Had you not tried to silence my internal (eternal) monologue |