When Words Don’t Speak

Silence no longer seeks those abandoned houses of the heart,
It looks on, Eagle-like, beyond the far craggy land, towards the ocean
From where the sun rises;
Its eyes survey a rich topography of words, of thoughts –
Streams cutting through a blue dawn valley
Lapped by the low wavy hills, and then lakes, and then the sea.
Poets have seen silence soaring above their heads,
Casting its shadow on the civilization of words;
Its restive nest in thoughts of remorse, in the pause of doubt,
In the gentle foliage of the conscience;
New words gather on its wings, new protesting thoughts;
Against selfish authority our silence speaks
Slow, honest, sensuous words the newly crowded heart can feel
Like some faded past thing.
Silence flies past our eyes; it surrenders freely to the sea.