Silence

Silence is as ancient 
as rime
at the dawn of footprints
And it will outlive
Our coronach
Long after
We have sailed to sea.

It was made to be broken
Like hearts
And promises
And yet, there it remains
intactus
As imperturbable as a postulate
And as permanent as the first
unspooled petal of midnight.

We loathe it
when we are soldiering
With loneliness
And yet
It is what we turn to
With reverence
When we need
To conform in obedience
Or feel the love of God.
And yet it is not the response
We crave
When we say
I love you.

It is the conductivity of prayer
The exordium of sleep
The epitaph of farewell
The final bullet fired on the battlefield.
The edict of marriage
when there is still everything
and nothing more to be said.
And it is the coda of pestilence
That follows the
Vigil of lost dreams
anguished cries
And the defeat of
weary angels
Who hover in disbelief
over the
Souls of the perished
Whose lives they tried to
Control
Like kites
In a storm
Only to see them
Fly far, far
Away.

And yet....

When time begins
To slowly dissolve
And stretches its arms
Like the contortions of a rubbery baby
That is when terror will retreat back to
the shadowland of memories
And silence will arrive to
resuscitate us

Just as it always has
By liberating the author’s words from captivity
inspiring the visions of artists
releasing the melodies from the cage of the songwriter’s heart
And signaling to the lilies of the field
That it is time to welcome the bees and turn once again
towards the welcoming sun.

That is when our healing will begin
As we are led
By the tender-hearted hand back to
whatever we are attracted to most
And cannot live without.