Silence In Seven Parts

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by impasta18

by impasta18

The silence is painful when my body has this much to say.

I
When I turned off the radio poetry came to me slowly. She whispered words in my ear and I listened. From the outside, it may have looked as if nothing was happening. But world's were being created.

II
In my room, in the silence, God came to me. He came to me all at once. He came to me as if he had been waiting for me this whole time. He talked with me and I listened.

III
In the absence of my words my friend started talking. She talked and i listened. And I listened and she talked. I wonder if we had ever really been friends before or if it was happening right now.

IV
I go outside and lay on the ground. It is not all that silent after all. I listen to the music the trees make with their bodies. I listen to the gentle breathe of the wild beast that is nature. I look up the sky and it so quiet. Or maybe nothing is quite as silent as I thought. Perhaps everything is loud in its own right. But not everything demands to be heard. When the trees sing they do not do it just so we will hear it.

V
God talks to me but he will not raise his voice to be heard over the roar. He will wait for me to turn off the radio. Even if it takes forever.

VI
Poetry will tell me things if only I go where she likes to stay. And she does like places that are loud. Where fists are raised and music is screamed and hands are clapped. But she lives in the quiet corners, where artists sit to dream. It has been a while since I've been there.

VII
I am still learning the art of silence. Sometimes the loud inside my head demands to be drowned out by the loud of some thing else. But it doesn't always have to be that way. Sometimes, in the still and silent, you hear. And you understand.