Some Say... Poem by robert dickerson

Some say there is quiet enough in the grave-
that coffin lid will clank to damp forever
brag, blue boast, serenade,
raucous joke and inadvertent laughter;
that we must plot to keep the peace at bay
with horn and drum, rap and beep and bray.
But you, holy Silence, you I crave
rich amnion that swirls about our thought
feeding, bathing, multiplying it
and I would at your very center live.
Silence, in your cataract I hear
heavenly jazz, colossol syncopation
while from your fathoms writhe and disappear
the hideous fry of poems in gestation;
With Darkness come, your slowly creeping mate-
the only things that God did not create.