If the sounds of my soul
were the kind you could hear,
you might begin to understand.
There is this song that plays at the center
of an awakened soul, changing with the
light in the sky and the nearness of love.
It’s the first few lines of So What and
Bach’s Goldberg Aria Variation No. 2 with
Gould’s barely audible humming.
It’s Glass’ haunting Island and
the Marche Funebre of Chopin’s Sonata No. 2
all the way to the end.
It’s the play in Louis and Ella together,
the promise in Sentimental Mood, and
the hope in Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
But it’s also beach waves and bamboo chimes,
Grieg’s Wedding Day, Ray Brown on the bass,
and Chet Baker on his horn.
Oh, that you would hear the sounds of
this enlivened soul and know what I mean
when I ask you to listen.
Something about Clair de Lune in my earphones
and the whipping storm-wind pushing my steps
toward the butterfly drinking down nectar
reminded me of the beauty you are growing
in the silence of my soul.
This silence is too loud.
I should unlock my hands.
Don’t breathe that fast.
My job title should be slightly different.
This silence is too long.
My cheek itches.
I shouldn’t have used those words.
I wish he would see me differently.
This silence is too deep.
I wonder if she loved me.
She ignored me.
I was little, I didn’t know.
This silence has gone too far.
Don’t keep walking that way,
It’s too close, it’s too close!
Open your eyes, break the silence!
No, the clouds are moving so fast
and the grass tickles the backs of my knees,
making me laugh, my hands behind my head.
Oh! The sun beats down on my six-year old toes
and I close my eyes tight, dizzied by the
size of the sky and how I don’t see where it ends.
This silence is too beautiful.