He was so very quiet,
so quiet
that even when I think of him
he never speaks he always just looks lost.
I picture him setting about his
chores in silence
Picture him sitting with his wife
in silence
picture him watching others
in silence
I wonder if it might be caused by
the day he lost,
the day he never found
or just the preponderance of evidence
that often will accompany a day
and leaves one speechless
so I begin to bray
and make noise
masking this side of silence
so
that I might not become infected.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem