Silence, for Eija
This entry I dedicate to paulamcg, who made me remember this poem and whom I’d like to thank for today’s thought-provoking exchange, and for all the previous ones.
The poem was written in April, when after a crazy writing outburst I felt the stream slow down and finally reduce to a mere trickle. I was terrified I was never going to write again.
SILENCE
And so the anticipated silence came,
feared and fatal.
She crept up unnoticed,
hidden behind the echoes
of the words already said.
I can only put them
on a steel laboratory table,
poke them with a needle
and watch them twitch
like a dead frog.
And she stands right behind me,
with her chin on my shoulder,
with a hideous smile
that I’d so much like to tear from her face
with a single cry.
The poem was written in April, when after a crazy writing outburst I felt the stream slow down and finally reduce to a mere trickle. I was terrified I was never going to write again.
SILENCE
And so the anticipated silence came,
feared and fatal.
She crept up unnoticed,
hidden behind the echoes
of the words already said.
I can only put them
on a steel laboratory table,
poke them with a needle
and watch them twitch
like a dead frog.
And she stands right behind me,
with her chin on my shoulder,
with a hideous smile
that I’d so much like to tear from her face
with a single cry.