Silence is a Song

No music and no silhouettes, closing your eyes to find that peaceful sound of nothing at all. No images, no words to describe the surroundings or any figures, just nothing. Gentle breezes may whistle gently across the inner lobes of your ears and bounce off the prominence of your tragus to create a vacuum effect when it gets more violent, but this is still silence. The motion of the wind can also guide the direction of other things like the rain gently rapping at your open window. It gently taps as if to get your attention and although it is audible to you and even though your eyes are closed, you can still clearly see the image of those drops slowly descending to the window sill where it accumulates into its own small river flowing over the edge. This is in fact still silence.

As the grey clouds shift above and all the old aches and pains begin to throb, your body signalling the incoming storm, this too is silence. As you lie down to rest this weary body, wordless. The thoughts that cloud your mind as you try to resolve them with your inner voice speaking is too, silent. As you come to terms with the problems and obstacles that you face and decide that they are best left as tomorrow’s endeavor and your breathing steadies, you inevitably drift off into the dreams that spring forth from your subconscious. People you have met, things you have done and haven’t materialize before you. Words are clearly spoken and odd conversations take place that are either misconstrued memories, new and enlightening or pure nonsense. You could very well witness a duck that barks like a german shepard, or trees with no birds that still chirp and with all these sounds and images set before you, they are all in fact still silent as you breathe a steady rhythm with your eyes closed. Imperceptible to you is your soft snore that sometimes grows audibly loud, but not to you. The thunderstorm outside that has failed to wake you joins your labored breathing from the dream turned nightmare where a man in a bunny costume is chasing you through the woods as you yell for help, the reality that you cannot perceive around your still body is silence and to all others, your cries for help fall silent. It is quiet both inside and out.

The storm in all its majesty with loud commanding cracks that separate the sky. Torrential rains that fall relentless and seemingly never ending. They too shall pass. Like a song for all the things we hold inside that eventually come pouring out. It was as you lay there in tears wide awake, the muffled tones of your own cries let out as you tried to hold them back with a hand by your mouth. The mix of saliva and salty tasting nasal drip became your sound reasoning for finally letting out something akin to howling. There was never anybody to hear you but hearing yourself seemed far too horrifying. Was it not peaceful this silence? Was it not healing, demanding then frantic and finally disabling? Was it too much of nothing?

Finally you sleep, so serene in a dream, the dry pillars of salt push your lower eyelids up as you no longer have the weight of the world holding them down, the cloudiness and confusion wait to see the light as even dark clouds grow only to dissolve. For a moment in the dissonant solo that preceded, you could never tell that this was the encore for silence. A small clap emerged to congratulate you in your dreams and aspirations, for finally achieving internal peace and with tomorrow, words that would create their own song and harmony. The track that is silence can be one that is repeated and no one would ever know. Among all the chaos in this world it can be hard to hear sometimes.

© The Sad Owl

Unsent

It was pointy

The sharpness of a pinprick; needle

For the various mistakes that I –

would often try to mend

Delightedly

The wincing of a forced smile; feeble

For all the time borrowed that I –

will not give back again

I am sadly

Reading letters from then

A present from the past that I –

remember from when we were two people

Strangely

I still tend to pick up my pen

Writing tender words about you

Every now and then but I –

am what remains unread

© The Sad Owl

Short Breath

The way.

The veil of clouded vision

I can’t.

Find the light within, and

I stop.

For just a brazen moment

We stop.

Myself and time itself

Let go.

Take a breath, it will be okay.

I know.

To think we thought it would work out

It won’t.

Not even with a hope of somehow

We go.

Go alone, our separate ways

We live.

The time moves with us until

We die.  

Such a short breath, taken away.

This life.

Sleeping Party

All the invited show

But I am too nervous to face them

I hideaway in the confines of the only space I know

My head in my pillow

Where I often go

To weep as the willow, I plant myself deep

If I can’t see what I miss

I feign ignorance for bliss

I wait for the clock to countdown till the lot

Clears from my home

In my room alone, I hear the sound of laughter

A happiness for which, the pursuit I am not after

I sometimes raise my head and wonder

If only I could leave this place

Perhaps in another life things could be different

The eventual silence soothes me to sleep

A soundless slumber in faceless dreams

Names I will soon forget

In the end, nothing is different