Silent Silence

Silence is impossible to fully express in the written form. Here is my attempt:

Here for but a moment–
an inhale,
a comma,
a pause,
a break,
full stop.
.
.
.
Maybe it’s not a blank space.
After all, a musical rest is conveyed with a symbol–
a hat for a half-rest,
an upside-down hat for a whole.
Maybe it’s all about rest.
.
.
.
And maybe silence is hope.
It’s hope that my words may rest by you
in your quiet moments,
alone,
at peace.
Hope that my words offer their presence, not their voice.
.
.
.
I hope you find the silence you’re looking for.

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk from Pexels


C. D. Anders wrote this poem about silence and how difficult it is to write about. I wrote on one form of silence, the calm kind, but I would love to see other people take up his challenge of either capturing silence in words or writing on ideas that are difficult to put into words.

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Come, My Darling

We’ve nothing to do

Come, my darling,
let’s settle here
beneath the tree.

We’ve nothing to do,
nothing to say,
so let us just lie, silently
watching cracks in the sky.
We’ll nervously run
our fingers through the clover
unable to voice what is wrong,
though our perfect illusion is over.

So come, my darling,
let’s settle beneath this tree,
and never ask the question,
Where do we go
from here?



Photo by Negative Space from Pexels

Today’s resource for education and empathy is the Instagram account Intersectional Environmentalist. They have some pretty and funky graphics with a great educational message. The current environmental problems we face undeniably affect marginalized communities throughout the world much more profoundly than non-marginalized ones. Environmental solutions must take these discrepancies into account. Intersectional Environmentalist also has a website that showcases resources for and from various communities with more to come!

And speaking of Instagram, I don’t advertise it much, and it’s still a work-in-progress, but I do have an Instagram account for this blog. You can follow me here to see several of the poems from this blog and other Instagram-exclusive content.

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D.C.

In a heartbeat, three simple words etched themselves on my tongue

Here’s another poem that I had written just slightly earlier than “That Night” on the opposite side of the same piece of scrap paper.


D.C.



I miss sitting with you.

I remember that day, staring at the rushing Potomac before us
And how your head was in my lap.
We were surrounded by history and new experiences,
But all I could think about was you, just you.

In a heartbeat, three simple words etched themselves on my tongue
And seared the back of my throat
And crushed my chest from the inside.
I opened my mouth and said nothing.

I often wonder if I had said what I was feeling in that moment,
Would everything be different now?
Would this aching core of mine be threatening
To tear me apart with its slashing claws and gnashing teeth?

All these months later, I am stuck once more.
I keep trying to run, trying to fly,
But your gravitational pull is too strong
For me to even leave the ground.

Am I trapped by your will or my own?

Your birthday forces fresh blood
Out of the wounds you inflicted.
How can I put into words how important you are to me
Without being reduced to tears?

So again, I stay silent,
And again, I am filled with what-ifs.


Image by David Mark from Pixabay

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