Silences

Words averse to daylight

Run from mind to tongue

And then scurry away

Unable to bear the searing heat 
of the volcano they carry.

Thus are born silences;

Each bearing

The past, present and future

Of a relationship sealed inert.

The fluids conveniently never leak

And mess the designer interiors 
of cozy families.

And so the silences lurk

At corners of rain-filled streets,

Or hunker down on lonely roads

Apathy and hope alternating.

The open door

The words have left.
There are no descriptions
no dialogues, no arguments.

This light does not need colors.
Sound is a harsh interruption
in the transparent wave of silence
blissful in its emptiness.

A state of being.
Just
being.

Photo: courtesy Magpie Tales