On Silence

“When you sit in silence long enough, you learn that silence has a motion. It glides like water. Its colour is silver. And silence has a sound you hear only after hours of wading inside it. The sound is soft, like flute notes rising up, like the words of glass speaking. Then there comes a point when you must shatter the blindness of its words the blindness of its light.”

Growing up fifth of six kids, I learned that life was chaos and noise. It was where I thrived. Always shared a room, and later, an apartment, and marriage, and my own children, and when finally silence found me, it was shattering. It took a long while for me to appreciate the gift in silence, and like anything in life, I had to learn not to rest there too long.

Balance and moderation. That’s what I seek.

But, oh, I do love silence.

Aftermath

The sibilant hiss
of fridge slays
this silence –
I am numb,
hummed,
lulled
by sleepiness –
slippery echoes
of weekend’s voices
linger, ring
in my ears,
the disruption
ending so abruptly –
I am rendered
listless, fuzzed.

(Onomatopoeia is the prompt tonight at dVerse, hosted by Bjorn.)

Craving

Fan whirs,
like a cyclone
building pressure

head craves silence

thump –
automated shutoff
ears ring in aftermath

mind craves silence

shrill peep
shatters calm
pierces closed pane

heart craves silence

emotions churn
burning tears
anger screaming

soul craves silence

dissonance
a monotonous roar
bouncing off bones

no silence here
only craving

(Written for Manic Mondays 3-way Prompt: Silence)