Tuesday, April 24, 2012

poem: the silence

the silence i practiced to quieten your thoughts
our world reduced to sensory stimulants, pulsating sounds
reclining lavishly.
physical warmth, your temporary sanctuary
my majesty, only now do i know 
the noise you suffered was indeed a travesty
all the traffic in your mind’s confines
i don’t need to know, although i wondered sometimes
if i could dance the dance of death between the cars and trams
or grounded malleable in the rush hour jam
does he taste the silence, i wonder anxiously
the silence i practice, almost obediently

              -- Nora Bakhsh

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