Into The Silence Poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro

When it was all over
He returned to the house
He went up into the bedroom
And saw her dress
Hanging there on the bed
Then he sat down
and remained there till it was dark,
in the silence,
with what was left of him
Lost in sorrow
In sorrowful meditation
In spite of everything,
she had loved him
But happiness, somehow,
had not come from that love
It seemed to him
that he must have made a mistake,
have misunderstood in some way
or another
He had tried hard
to discover what, precisely,
it was in life that was denoted by
the words 'joy and passion'
Those words had always looked so fine
to him in books
Why was it he only
cared for the sea when the waves were
lashed to a fury by a storm,
and for lushness
only when it served as backdrop
to a ruin
It was as if everything must
needs minister to his
personal longings and
as if he thrust aside,
as of no account, whatever
did not instantly contribute
to stir his emotions
For his sentimental
temperment sought out emotions
What was it about him
that would not allow him to love
His passion blinded him at first,
and he had no thoughts beyond it
But then, when she
had become indispensable
to him, he was afraid
of losing her
Yet he could not tell her

In the cold dark moments
when these feelings gripped him
he would clasp her all the tighter;
In the darkening gloom
a sigh seemed more profound;
a touch seemed more intense,
and in the stillness that enfolded them
a word, softly murmured,
would float upon their breath
trembling, into silence.

And now, in this cold dark moment
with these feelings gripping him
he clasped her pillow tight;
In the darkening gloom
his sigh seemed more profound;
his loss seemed more intense,
and in the stillness that enfolded him
a word, softly murmured,
her name, floating upon his breath
trembling, into silence.

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