A Stranger To Silence Poem by Zoe Guillory

But I am a stranger to Silence.
The train passes by, small hands
and faces pressed against the windows.
Watching the station zoom by. Eager.
I see them laughing as the train screams
at the tracks and sky and the empty
road ahead. Silence ahead.
No destination. Just the voiceless
insecurities of the future. And Silence.
The disturbance of Noise bounded
long after the last car had passed.
Long after the faces of children
had disappeared from my eyes.

The ringing stopped.
Noise had bounced off of the station,
back and forth between the pillars,
and into the sky.
Where it stayed.

Silence is louder than Noise.
Heavier. Deafening. I jumped
off the cement onto cool
grass beneath my bare feet.
Hopped onto the track. Balance
was hard to come by.
I spread my arms like a scarecrow.
The track burned my feet.
Hot from the sun. Hot from the train.
Hot from an eternity of pressure
and the false security of 'safe' travel.

And so I walked ahead.
Followed the path of that train,
looking for the sound.
My feet bled, leaving stains
for the next train to pick up.
And carry with it.
I have not found my train.
Not yet, at least.
I walk alone. Slowly.
With purpose.
Silence will never be my friend.