Sunday, October 28, 2007

Only silence

This is the picture of silence,
this glow of warmth in the winter air.
The gnarled branches reach out and up,
and I impart them with a questioning
that emanates from within myself.
If these trees had faces,
they would be turned upward –
their lips would be slightly parted,
on the verge of a word,
but only breath would come.
Syllables, utterances –
they’re all too minute
to contain what lies within. 
And so,
the shadows of branches
entangle on the wall,
on this little square of orange,
and only silence is here.

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful poem. However, it makes my heart feel sadness thinking you must have felt lonely when you wrote it. But sad contemplation, as a passing of time, is acceptable too. EB