deepundergroundpoetry.com

A Non-Quiet Peace

There are seldom moments
I choose silence,
slops in on the front porch,
unexpected Sunday visitor

and stays for lunch,
hunched over and mouthing,
the stench of age and history lingering -
catching us clenching, leaning back into wooden chairs.

Dare not move,
stir air up and remain
stained by the unfair silence, choking on it,
gritting teeth, writhing in the seat and bearing it.

Must have known it,
when silence has made rust of the polite welcome,
chalkboard nails lusting after the bones of it,
screams of companionship and agony curling in the belly and bust

- ready to flop out, fish in a barrel,
flapping across the table gasping,
survival fever in the exhales
and a forlonging for future of tails

deep into the rushing river,
noises and quivering, breaking on rocks and shaking
the very frame of silence, cowering,
fish nibbling at the remains, destroying.

This crash of water, sound of life
through the kitchen window it echoes into the hall,
tinkles in bathroom, sings in the shower,
joins us for lunch and makes for such refreshing laughter,

deep in the houses of our souls.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
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