Sounds
Stilled sounds from your bedroom check futile gestures. Each time the window unlatches oppressive air; air numbing my senses, leaden air that’ll not suffer sounds anew of a voice departed in unsullied peace, soft and smooth to my heart.
Sometimes the window opens on a mysterious hush, as if sounds were longing to fill a void, be present, then stay their headlong rush towards my waiting ears. Each time it’s the same, and the sounds are the same, tender and magnetic in the stillness of memory.
If spontaneous sounds revisited, grief would return, my profuse gestures would astonish even the air, sounds sounds sounds of an essence spent; brief beats of silence would become pain, un-stilled stillness causing havoc in time’s flow.
Everything would return, the sterile sorrow, deafening singularities in endless succession. My exultant gestures would not solve life’s riddle...
Muted sounds from your vacant room, sounds sounds, those sounds will not return.
By Psyche
Copyright: Sylvia Maclagan, Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2007.
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Mis temas favoritos The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.
"There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction."
Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights. Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!MM Award Winner
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