I
More than stone or wood, silence
shapes a home,
imbeds itself
like damp in plaster.
Some fail
to turn out words
from the grind of their thoughts,
in fear of conflict
or nerves exposed.
Others devote years
to cultivating wordless war,
and this has bent
the air around them.
shapes a home,
imbeds itself
like damp in plaster.
Some fail
to turn out words
from the grind of their thoughts,
in fear of conflict
or nerves exposed.
Others devote years
to cultivating wordless war,
and this has bent
the air around them.
II
More than the absence of sound,
it’s peace
and space,
a workshop to remake your mind
and all that has gathered mould.
it’s peace
and space,
a workshop to remake your mind
and all that has gathered mould.
III
More than the clamour
of children and all they deprive you of,
the lasting lull of their departure
will take the wood of your voice
and strip it,
and it will take time to regrow.
They’ll return
– maybe with children of their own –
for just a dishevelled moment,
having to inhabit
the homes they’ve built themselves.
The final silence
is monstrous noise,
metal teeth ripping the walls,
exposing powdery guts of cement,
collapsing it all to conceive a space
for new growth,
new silence,
new loves.
of children and all they deprive you of,
the lasting lull of their departure
will take the wood of your voice
and strip it,
and it will take time to regrow.
They’ll return
– maybe with children of their own –
for just a dishevelled moment,
having to inhabit
the homes they’ve built themselves.
The final silence
is monstrous noise,
metal teeth ripping the walls,
exposing powdery guts of cement,
collapsing it all to conceive a space
for new growth,
new silence,
new loves.