Unsaid and unsaid. What kind of silence is it?
The gift of silence must be reserved for the worthy, and carefully offered.
Silence can be: acceptance, surrender, acknowledgment, cessation of request, abandonment,
emptiness or endings.
The unsaid, it goes without saying, is the only thing left
when fear steals hands and feet and minds.
Or silence can be strong. Our voices are not restricted to our lips and tongues, but an integration of every single living mote that defines our lives. What we do, what words ring from us, what ripples from the few moments of each existence, should
of the power
of all the potential words, steps, tokens, touches, kisses, encouragements, acknowledgements, whispers, works, songs and howls, that ideate from each
of our best selves.
What kind of silence?
My pages need to evolve faster. Sometimes crisis is the only catalyst that can release me from this torpor. My refractory period is delayed by my algorithm. Is my silence a refusal to choose?
Any silence that I embrace, should be a gathering up of strength, an aligning of my shoulders and feet, preparing me for my next push into whatever work stands in the path.
Do not listen for me, and hearing nothing, think that I have abandoned the fight.
When you hear my silence, stand up. It’s the sound I make when I breathe in.
Let any silence I make become a signal of no surrender.
I give or accept no final poem. Whatever is next, is. My best offerings are bottle-rocket days, filled with the unreserved push of everything I am, focused and released in a single direction.
I make choices and take chances. Then, re-align and push again.