Her ghost was quieter than she.
Falling petals land
Like the snows of Winters past
The sound of our bliss
The still of nature
Goodbye to their seeds
“How do you choose when you know that choice will hurt? How can you side with someone who is wrong?”
“It’s simple,” said the old lady, “you don’t.”
Instantly, the crushing weight of expectation lifted, the breaths came again. I was me, not them and silence would be my shield.
Love is this
She said leaning in
As I’ll say it only once
….. That silence was love
They said it golden like sunflower petals in the heat of day, or nectar dripping from a hummingbird’s beak. They said it a shining, liquid exterior blazing like the sun. And for a time, I believed them. For a time. But the day did not suit such as I, so loud. I’d no wish to blaze, to gleam, to reflect. Not like that, anyway.
For me, midnight offered a security the daylight never could. It gave a certain reassurance to be cosseted in obsidian, swept away in spectral dreams and prayers. Yes, silence came in silver shades and perfect peace.
Shouting at tornadoes; swallowed words. Pray.