Silence
Gently falling like an autumn leaf
Red, yellow and green
In a large crowded room
Shrunken with people huddled together for
The warmth of company
In their chic clothing and
Tightly held wine glasses.
I wonder if they too secretly
Thank climate scientists
For gifting us longer conversations
About the weather.
The chattering mutes out
The noises in the head.
There is heat in this silence that
I'm comfortable with.
I do not want real silence.
That would mean a real conversation.
It would mean I would I have to listen.
It would mean I might have to change.
Again.
The problem with real conversations
Is that they end.
They end
And you are left with only words.
Only words
To string up the thoughts to
Justify your actions.
Your actions
That create more questions
Than give you answers.
Answers
That you keep trying to
Find in real conversations.
Real conversations that only end with words...
Words that can't string your thoughts...
Thoughts that don't justify actions...
Actions that create more questions...
Questions with no answers in words-
Words in real conversation-
Real conversation that doesn't string-
Strings that don't justify-
Justify all the questions-
Questions in real conversation-
Real conversation-
Words-
Strings-
Thoughts-
Actions-
Answers-
Questions-
Real-
Words-
Real-
Thoughts-
Words-
ThouGHts-
ReaL-
words-
WoRDs-
wOrdS-
woRds-
WORDS!!
This silence dins.
This silence hurts.
It starts so innocently.
How does it end
In a cold deafening embrace?
Maybe I am too young
And impatient,
Even though
It feels like
This silence is ageing me
Beyond recognition.
White skin
Black eyes
White hair.
Maybe I must wait,
I must learn,
I must change.
Calm waters
That don't decay
Are ever changing.
Surely they too
Bubbled
And gushed
With rage
And uncertainty
Once.
Surely the rocks
Beneath them
Smoothened
And padded
Themselves with moss
On which innocent hands
Could slip
But not cut.
Perhaps one day
Real silence
Will not numb.
Perhaps silence will calm
And open what is shut out.
Perhaps one day
Silence will be gentle
And soft
Like the new leaves of spring
That glisten
With fresh dew at daybreak.
Perhaps one day
Silence will let me listen.
Gently falling like an autumn leaf
Red, yellow and green
In a large crowded room
Shrunken with people huddled together for
The warmth of company
In their chic clothing and
Tightly held wine glasses.
I wonder if they too secretly
Thank climate scientists
For gifting us longer conversations
About the weather.
The chattering mutes out
The noises in the head.
There is heat in this silence that
I'm comfortable with.
I do not want real silence.
That would mean a real conversation.
It would mean I would I have to listen.
It would mean I might have to change.
Again.
The problem with real conversations
Is that they end.
They end
And you are left with only words.
Only words
To string up the thoughts to
Justify your actions.
Your actions
That create more questions
Than give you answers.
Answers
That you keep trying to
Find in real conversations.
Real conversations that only end with words...
Words that can't string your thoughts...
Thoughts that don't justify actions...
Actions that create more questions...
Questions with no answers in words-
Words in real conversation-
Real conversation that doesn't string-
Strings that don't justify-
Justify all the questions-
Questions in real conversation-
Real conversation-
Words-
Strings-
Thoughts-
Actions-
Answers-
Questions-
Real-
Words-
Real-
Thoughts-
Words-
ThouGHts-
ReaL-
words-
WoRDs-
wOrdS-
woRds-
WORDS!!
This silence dins.
This silence hurts.
It starts so innocently.
How does it end
In a cold deafening embrace?
Maybe I am too young
And impatient,
Even though
It feels like
This silence is ageing me
Beyond recognition.
White skin
Black eyes
White hair.
Maybe I must wait,
I must learn,
I must change.
Calm waters
That don't decay
Are ever changing.
Surely they too
Bubbled
And gushed
With rage
And uncertainty
Once.
Surely the rocks
Beneath them
Smoothened
And padded
Themselves with moss
On which innocent hands
Could slip
But not cut.
Perhaps one day
Real silence
Will not numb.
Perhaps silence will calm
And open what is shut out.
Perhaps one day
Silence will be gentle
And soft
Like the new leaves of spring
That glisten
With fresh dew at daybreak.
Perhaps one day
Silence will let me listen.
 |
| Silence and Beauty- Birth Makoto Fujimura https://www.makotofujimura.com/works/ |
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