Its kind and quiet here with only
the night humming lullabies,
and the silence is eloquent
well placed it vibrates through
the hollows of the autumn air, sends
huddled flocks of line sitting sparrows
clawing for the clouds of ceiling,
wings whipping as they beat against
the glimpse of blue sky
trapped, they are.
Lingering and forlorn,
like wood smoke echos
in the hollows of life.
Every vision a testament to itself
and a hundred different voices
are silent, for once.
I know these things.
I have caught them hiding among the
bramble of my thoughts;
they are there, and I know you are
there, but I don't know if I will ever
know you.
At every turn, the whitewash
retreats into the background for that
split second, and I can see you then,
staring back at me
with the quiet confidence of stark,
ravaged nudity; saying this is what I
am, you have found me, now
will you accept me.
Rozz Jan 2002
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem