silence

Laws of silence don't work....When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's just like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant....

An imaginary friend once asked me why Americans can't stand Russia. The answer was cold, deadly, silent, and, well expected. It__ because in Soviet Russia nothing happens anymore, because it doesn__ exist anymore. And Americans are all about happenings. If there isn__ one _ they don__ go where it isn__, because there isn__ anything to happen to them there.

Silence Has A Sound....

Silence is the source of healing. When we bring things from within ourselves out into the light of awareness, a healing process happens. In the silence, we can let go of all anger, sadness, fear, loneliness and frustration.

Where were the scientific pamphlets that taught a woman how to listen to herself die?

There lives a weeperin each of us-a silent mourner honoring our despairwhen our willingness slain by helplessness continues to resurrect to be slaughtered again

There's her silence, loud as a roar, pulling at me like the greatest sadness ever, like I want to take it and press myself into it and just disappear forever down into nothing.What a relief that would feel like right now. What a blessed relief.

It wasn't the aloneness that Liz minded. It was the silence. It echoed.

You think you deserve to be sad," he says. There is a moment of silence as we look at each other. "You think it is okay for you to be sad every day. But it's not okay. And you do not deserve it.

Maisie bit her lip. She had learned that sometimes it was best to let words die of their own accord, rather than fight them.

...all winter the acorns and red Maple leaf moldered in silence - in the same way grief is gnawing at me - slowly, imperceptibly... consuming...

Sometimes it's your fragrance that comes to me, out of the blue, on a crowded road in a Sunday afternoon.But more often, it's memories of us that cross my mind almost every lone evening.All I want is to lessen the pain I feel every night.But every morning I wake up is another day, hopeless and miserable, with nothing but a deafening silence, a wave of tears, memories and your absence.

Well, there would be no sound if we shout on the background.

There are silences and silences. No one of them is like another. There is the silence of grief in velvet-draped rooms of a plushly carpeted funeral parlor which is far different from the bleak and terrible silence of grief in a widower's lonely bedroom.

Death was silence, loss, guilt. And anger. But life led that way, anyway. From birth, it was a slow, long march to the grave. Who said that? She couldn__ remember now. But it was true. They were born dying. If they were very lucky, the dying was called aging. They reached toward if as if they were satellites in unstable orbits. And then when they got there, they were just dead. One moment in time separated the living from the ghosts.

The more silent is my mind,The more it speaks;Wisdom is a light divine,And its shadow a mystique!

Die wertvollste Reise ist die Reise zu unserem Selbst.

When you left you left behind a fieldof silent flowers under a sky full of unstirred clouds...you left a million butterfliesmid-silky flutters You left like midnight rain against my dreaming ears Oh and how you left leaving my coffee scentless and my couch comfortless leaving upon my fingers the melting snow of you you left behind a calendar full of empty days and seasons full of aimless wanders leaving me alone with an armful of sunsets your reflection behind in every puddle your whispersupon every curtain your fragranceinside every petal you left your echoes in between the silence of my eyes Oh and how you leftleaving my sands footless and my shores songless leaving me with windows full of moistened moonlight nights and nightsof only a half-warmed soul and when you left... you left behind a lifetime of moments untouched the light of a million starsunshed and when you left you somehowleft my poem...unfinished. (Published in Taj Mahal Review Vol.11Number 1 June 2012)