Words emerge from the silence
of wood and stone. They break
that silence when they are born.
Silence, once broken, cannot
be repaired. A word once spoken
cannot be recalled.
The greatest gift is to know
how to be alone amidst the crowd,
how to sink into silence.
A world of words smothered
at birth and that world, unborn,
dismissed, forgotten, still-born.
A lost world of words whirled
on the silent wind that fans
the unborn fire within you.
The spider web of the mind
blown clear by the wind
that blows unspoken words.
The sultry silence of wood and stone,
the hush of the tadpole swimming
into its own metamorphosis.
Click for Roger’s reading on Anchor.
4 thoughts on “Silence”
Absolutely true and so beautifully described. What a great poet you are, Roger. You display, as well, your profound knowledge about the world and its people.
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Now you have made me cry, Robert. I must be entering my second childhood. Thank you so much for those words. They mean a great deal, especially coming from you.
What I have written about you as a poet, a scholar and a human being comes from both my heart and my head. I trust you will write until breath leaves you as it does all of us.
Thank you once again. I will write for as long as I am inspired to do so. Deus est in nobis – as the Roams used to say when Latin was a spoken language – and I believe that very strongly.