‘The Silence of Still’

The mercy of the silence will be unexplainable.

Note: The photograph was taken November 9th, the bride and groom, the Sign of Jonah.

The Silence of Still
 
can you hear the whispers
through the air
the conjugating of birds
shh...hear them go quiet
the low howls of hounds
the uneasy purr of cats
the cattle all laid down
even the horses lie on their bellies
their necks stretched out
their eyes focused no wheres
 
the waves that raged
now are calm, smooth
except for the slow bumping
against lifelessness
against broken shores
where once stood beautiful structures
glazing in the morning sun
now lay invisible images
lost in the silence of still
 
shh...can you hear the whispers
the crying of the trees
their battle long gone
watching the water come and go
its dark, mucky vortex
surrounding the hollowness
of the silence
their departed leaves
withering in mixed congregation
 
shh...shh...can you hear the whispers
tiny ants coming out to feast
hungry flies gathering around
surveying the air
lurking in the stillness
ready in their devour
of what's left
of the silence
 
shh...shh...there it is
far, far but so very close
from low, deep in throat
a piecing wail
like never heard
an unmatched sound
human...animal?
how can one tell
it's engulfed in the stillness
like a look looking
but not seeing
it's bathed in rage
a blanketed depth
so darkened and mellowed
that it stills the stillness
 
shh...shh awaken to the whisper
the sound of inconceivable
as the ants begin their march
as the flies settle their position
as the leaves give into their stench
as the trees weaken their hold–
their roots release the earth
as they fall to the ground
lose themselves
to the wet cape below
 
the silence stares
listening to the anguish wail
coming from deep, deep
as the sea returns to the sun
wrapping its arms around
the silence
begging for beauty
to be seen
as she rocks back and forth
begging the trees
begging the cows, the horses
all those in the wild
'stand up, stand up'
 
but shh...shh there's just the whispers
low, low...the stillness
as its look keeps looking
but can't anymore see

Author: k. e. leger

I'm a writer.

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