I’m thinking about silence

My ears prickle, searching for it

It is not perfect

I tune into the subtle noises instead

And here it comes

So complex

Silence is not the absence of noise

But rather the background to it

Difficult to decipher

Until within the noise, the ears begin to tune behind it

Silence

The perfect communication tool

I sit down after delivering my fathers eulogy

My brother that speaks the least

Gently places his hand upon my knee

And squeezes

We look into each other’s heart hung eyes

Suspended

Silence

Perfect resonating accord

Stretched invisibly between us

I still recall that moment far deeper than anything anyone said that day

It was everything and yet it was nothing

After a lifetime of chattering

I’m finally finding stillness

And feeling it roll through me like a singing bowl high sounding sigh

Reverberating beyond my mind

Drugging me, silently pulling me under

I am an addict

Seeking this very substance of life

And finding – it is silence

Born from it, we return to it

How can nothing be everything?

Silence

*something occurred, shifted within me in the early hour imperfect one minute silence of Anzac day 2022. I wrote about it but found myself confounded by too many words trying to describe something wordless and perfect.

It’s still too many words

So I’m stopping

Until some future me with more ability can do silence justice.

I do wonder if eventually a poet becomes a true poet when, having reached for the exquisite perfect word and found it is silent, they

Simply

Stop

Trying to explain.

Well I’m a long way off that, so I continue but with more silent moments in between from which to glean truth.

Another:

Quiet in my bones