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
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
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
We look into each other’s heart hung eyes
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?
*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
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.