Tag: spilled ink

Silence in Speaking

There is no silence like speaking…

Half-truths make a better fence,

Than stone walls could ever be.

Cover up the wounds with smiles

And laugh memories into a corner.

If you have to paint your lips

And pin them in place to fit in,

At least you have a chance. 

There is no silence like speaking…

Keep it up and you might believe

These pillars more than prison bars

Around your teeth

To sift your speech

And train a once idle tongue.

There is no silence like speaking,

Except each breath is like breathing lead

And your lungs and heart grow heavy still..

Inhale.

Exhale.

Stop.

.

.

.

Begin again.

Empty words are broken bridges

Charred from unkept promises

And truths too inconvenient to maintain

Ropes of stifled smiles held down by gravity

And lips accustom to falling

Too fast to hold on for too long

Every plank is repetition

Hastily scribbled replies on cheap parchment

Spaced out haphazardly

Tied absentmindedly

By hands too busy to meddle

In hearts unfit for second-guessing

Even the sure-footed are ensnared

By aged wood rotted through with deceit

Plunging into waters too rapid

Too deep

I balance words on my tongue

Rolling letters against teeth

Scraping sentences built up

And waters stale with grief.

As eyes marked with luggage

Heavier than sleep

Are carried away

Blinking dust and counting sheep.

For what is peace

When sounds are cheap

And fingers lie awake

Intertwined and steep;

They rest on cheeks

And breathe.

For what is peace

When all we see

Are enslaved hearts

Told they’re free?

What can we say

When home

Is why they’re refugees?

Miscalculated Trajectory

I don’t even know what to type;

Words are less than ink,

No longer real,

Just 1′s and 0′s

Dotting the expanse between

What once was

And what can never be.

Code caught in a cyclic redundancy error

Infinitely checking and rechecking

For corruption

Where once was etched,

Like stone,

A promise

Of something more than convenience.

But here we are,

Fragments of dreams

Sifting through fingers

Laced with crisscrossing scars

Threaded through stars

Like freckles

Kissed in the noonday sun.

We’ve reset.

Restarted.

Rebooted.

Begun afresh.

And yet,

We crash,

Fail the basic memory tests…

Simply cannot recall,

Retain,

Retrain ourselves to speak better,

Louder.

At all…

Until even the humming goes silent,

And our world spins no more. 

Another Comforter

“Let me be your comfort”, he proposes

With words like sunflowers,

Riddled with seeds of something more

And arms outstretched like clouds.

She rests against his chest,

Breathing evenly for once,

Fingers testing the cotton between them,

Kneading with pointer and thumb.

He embraces her cheek

And traces lightly beneath her chin

Humming softly

Watching a smile pull at her lips.

It tugs on the right

Then to the left

She wiggles her nose,

But not in protest.

He feels her sigh,

Tension leaving her soul

Like an overstayed guest

When dawn is much too near.

Lightly nudging his palm,

She kisses his hand

With lavender lips

And a vanilla aftertaste.

His hand continues tracing

Sketching words of love and peace

Like calligraphy on her face

Caressing her lips

As if to refill an empty pen.

She nuzzles against his breast

Like home was never anywhere else

And pillows were a foreign concept.

He kisses her hair

Pressing a smile into her thoughts

Like joy could be shared

And exchanged with a touch.

His head relaxes

Her breathing slows

And all is still

Til morning glows.

The Whole Within

With the whole within us

We learn to act in parts

To mute our rainy days

To still our beating hearts

With the hole within us

We learn to shovel in

To cover up our scars

With papier-mâché skin

We tie our tongues with silver bows

And bow before our dead

We single out as voices grow

The lies our hearts have said

And in the mind of son and daughter

Lead ourselves into the slaughter

Love is a thorny rose

Unfolding beauty

Caught in prose

With pinprick words

I suppose

Or else I’ve heard it said

For those that grasp without repose

To tear at hearts

Til mourning grows

With bloodstained hands

So it shows

The pain of those bereft.

Graduation

We’re used to paper changing worlds

The power of ink bound like souls

To uplift or oppress,

To entangle or release.

Hours sink into a daze

Across each page like whispers

Of a long forgotten chorus:

Countless nights

Of recitation and revision

In a past we never knew.

Until that day,

With dawn breaking,

You slipped past dreaming

Past drifting between stars

And found yourself

A little closer

To who you’ve always wanted to be.

One page…

One page composed of hundreds gone

Composed of thousands more to come

One page…

And you’ve turned to a new chapter.

So, keep reading…

Keep writing…

And most of all,

Keep believing.

You have a library in your heart;

It’s time the whole world knew.

Listening For An Echo

We shout into the void–

With scribbles, songs, and pleas–

To hear a voice come back

As all around us flees.

We look into the west

And strain to find a home,

Where all the rivers meet

And no longer need to roam.

We feel with outstretched hands

And fingers pained and broken,

To feel just one reply

Reverb on lips when spoken.

We ache for one desire

To fill our chest, our lungs, with air and fire.