A CELEBRATION OF SILENCE
The train rolls through the ‘hood,
I hear the horn
but not the poetic
clackety clack of the wheels running
over the space between the rails.
The tangible noises, easily recognized
by the concrete livers of the many drunks
who always forget that the spaces between,
the blank spaces, are where the noise
is forced to make sense, the coda definitions.
I listen for the silences in my world
for they are not a constant or pause for peace.
Far away they come always on a rush of noise,
news they call it, warnings of danger and demise,
still it is in the silence where the poets speak
“fear not” and the gods say “come to me.”
© M Durfee