In my writing I have always been interested in silence,
the unspoken sounds and the pregnant pauses in conversation.
Sometimes healing, like the silent rise of a loved ones chest
as they sleep or the unspoken bond of fingers laced and swinging in
the breeze. The silent crease of the lips and twinkle in the eyes.
Often silence can be dangerous and deadly like the eye of the storm.
Perfect peace in one moment only to be riotously ripped asunder,
conversation mine traps that lie dormant before exploding with force.
Silent like the soundless sighs of desperation in surrender to suicidal ideations.
Deadly like the encroaching plague of boredom and mundanity killing
the foundations of a marriage and crumbling the bedrock of society.
Sometimes silence is sacred, like the hushed moment of wordless prayer
in the secret hours of the day where we lay our pride, lust and malice on the altar
and sacrifice ourselves for a moment of peace before the Almighty.
Sacred like the pause in a preachers sermon where you can almost hear a heavenly
Amen echo the words sinking like anchors unto the tables of your heart.
And sometimes silence just is, existing beyond the realm of human comprehension
saying the wordless things we cannot bear to speak out loud.
Sometimes in the silence, our souls speak.