Darkest Days

Life in Stages of Sound

Birth;
The origin of the deep, lull static begins at conception
Sinking into the warm, amniotic fluid that swallows your being
Embraced by the muffled noises of your mother's life
You're birthed into a cycle of consistent clamoring.

Infancy;
Swaddled in lush blankets that mist in ears
Mozart playing in the background to provide choice
And growth as infants need while learning that
The warm vanilla echo is your mother's voice.

Childhood;
You listen as your classmates' shout at each other,
The well-known scuffling as shoe meets graveled ground
The chaotic bedlam no longer a static in a warm place
But a bustling, sensory overload of strangled sound.

Adolescence;
Groans escape cracked lips when the class bumbles in;
Casting auditory complaints when homework is called
Ignoring the squeaking sneakers jumping underneath desks
You focus on the dry, scratching of paper and pencil scrawled.

Adulthood;
Meetings take place in quiet sanctions of an office so
That muddled thoughts can be processed and be known
But yet; even then mugs tap against glass tables; pressing
Pens sketch and etch against printer paper and phone.

Old Age;
A gentle, gradual gallop of scuffed tennis balls on used walkers;
A strangled cough escaped you as the rattling pill case approached
Your nurse hands you a water encouraging you to hear the gulp
Of drink down, decrepit throats; always being silently coached.

Death;
In silence, you lay waiting for the lid to close against your crisp face
Heading towards nothing but absolute nothingness cascades
You breathe lack of air because not one is found, and such is
A relief to hear the constant lull of consciousness fades.