The Eggs..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is the pain that silences
us.

Or it could just be me that
is silenced
by this
pain.

Or plainly it is only me who cannot
tell this to you
because
i cannot.

it is this silence than settles in
this nest of pain

and lays its white eggs of peace
and quiet, this pain that does not end

until the egg is broken until what comes
out shall
have its own wings, until it flies away

until what is left are just some useless feathers
that keep the memory and some sticks and some left overs
of the egg shells

to record the strength that made it all through
the blackness of those
nights.