Friday, February 26, 2016

Heather Jephcott writes

Raw Silence

Silence waited 
brooding along the path
all the way ruminating, 
the future, a shadowy way

Silence was the interval 
the downtime  
where waiting happened
full of grey indistinct thought

Silence sang with soft grief 
wondering despondently 
the hidden unknown 
quietly creaking 
Silence spoke with eyes
red, raw, downcast 
the gloom of noiselessness
hushed, mute and dumb

Silence was dead-air 
a vacuum fully reserved 
sitting, going no where 

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