Who, if not you, will recognize the
silent unease that plagues my heart?
Like a ghost of grace, the silence roams
the depths of my tortured chamber and
compels my devotion and my doubt.
Like you, I have practiced absence and
come to worship at the altar of its great
sorrow; may I say artfully so, designed
by the finest artistic intent only to be
betrayed by its kiss.
This silence, however, demands my life
and like a hesitant petal, perhaps fearful
of the possibility of such light, I close my
eyes and plead blindness. The darkness is
familiar and allows my hands to feel the way.
The tide of these withering hours is pushing
me further away from the shore and yet I
continue to walk on water, as if I’ve forgotten
that only by drowning will I finally be forgiven
and given the gift of an untethered silence.
Will I find you there?