deepundergroundpoetry.com
When Her Voice Left
silence, not one sound
rung through the ears of those who knew
she was quiet, but never silent
her name on tattered oak
I think we’re going deaf
a little unsettled, we are troubled
blasting music does nothing
when silence is all we’re hearing
her handprints on everything
her subtle breath is all we’re feeling
when her voice left
Everything changed
The sky, the trees, the sounds, everything
Now she litters our thoughts
If only we’d actually done something
maybe her empty shelves could tell us why we can’t stop sensing
surely this isn’t real, this can’t be happening
make it stop! The silence is agonizing!
her hair, her scent, that little laugh
is all we’re recollecting
because when her voice left
it dawned on us
being dead forces others to hear things
rung through the ears of those who knew
she was quiet, but never silent
her name on tattered oak
I think we’re going deaf
a little unsettled, we are troubled
blasting music does nothing
when silence is all we’re hearing
her handprints on everything
her subtle breath is all we’re feeling
when her voice left
Everything changed
The sky, the trees, the sounds, everything
Now she litters our thoughts
If only we’d actually done something
maybe her empty shelves could tell us why we can’t stop sensing
surely this isn’t real, this can’t be happening
make it stop! The silence is agonizing!
her hair, her scent, that little laugh
is all we’re recollecting
because when her voice left
it dawned on us
being dead forces others to hear things
Published 10th Apr 2018
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