Let The Silence Figure It Out

It was the forgotten

witness

in the beginning,

when sound wasn’t a concept

when my soul felt

itself

and not just concepts.

 

The soundless sound has a way

of getting everywhere-

into my bones,

under my skin,

becoming my skin.

 

A vow of silence becomes

my protest.

I feel like some days

my guild

lies on my face.

“No, I do not always feel loved

or that the world is round

or that i must die or that you must”

 

My feet are always walking,

wishing that the next place

won’t open up old wounds-

timeless wounds, our wounds.

My very loud silence pays homage

to the discomfort

and attempts to focus

on the healing.

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